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EKSITY 


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MARIE   ANTOINETTE 


AND 


THE  END  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME 


BY 

IMBERT    DE    SAINT-AMAND 


TRANSLATED    BY 
THOMAS   SERGEANT   PERRY 


WITH  PORTRAIT 

-^UIFORN}^ 

NEW  YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1890 


COPYRIGHT,   1890, 
BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

Introduction 1 

CHAPTER 

I.  The  Birth  of  the  Dauphin. 13 

II.  The  Grand  Duke  Paul  at  Versailles 21 

III.  "The  Marriage  of  Figaro " 31 

IV.  GusTAVus  III.  AT  Versailles 43 

V.  "Tnii  Barber  of  Seville"  at  the  Trianon....     51 

VI.  The  Cardinal  de  Rohan 60 

VII.  Cagliostro 68 

VIII.  The  Countess  de  La  Motte 76 

IX.  The  Necklace 86 

X.  The  Arrest 95 

XI.  The  Trial 104 

XII.  The  Verdict 115 

XIII.  A  Picture  op  Madame  Lebrun's 128 

XIV.  Madame  Elisabeth  at  Montreuil 135 

XV.  Cazotte's  Prophecy 150 

XVI.  The  Beginning  of  the  Revolution . .   1601^ 

XVII.  The  Assembly  of  Notables 168 

XVIII.  The  Procession  of  May  4,  1789 181 

V 


VI  CONTENTS, 

CHAPTER  PAeX 

XIX.  The  Opening  Session  of  the  States- General  . . .  188 

XX.    The  Death  of  the  Dauphin 196 

XXI.    The  Advance  of  the  Revolution 201 

XXII.  The  Departure  of  the  Duchess  of  Polignac...  213 

XXIII.  The  Queen  and  the  Marquis  op  La  Fayette  . . .  222 

XXIV.  Marie  Antoinette  and  the  Duke  of  Orleans  . .  230 
XXV.    The  Banquet  of  October  1 241 

XXVI.    The  Fifth  of  October 246 

XXVII.    The  Sixth  of  October 267 

Epilogue 270 


MARIE    ANTOINETTE 


iCND 


THE    END    OF    THE    OLD    REGIME 


MARIE    ANTOINETTE 

AND 

THE    END    OF    THE    OLD    REGIME, 

,1781-1789. 

INTRODUCTION. 

THE  old  regime  is  drawing  to  its  close ;  the  hour 
of  the  great  catastrophes  is  nigh ;  soon  the  deep 
roar  of  thunder  is  to  be  heard ;  yet,  so  far  as  appears, 
nothing  is  changed :  the  splendor  of  Versailles  still 
dazzles  every  eye  by  its  magnificence ;  everywhere 
one  sees  the  same  life,  the  same  animation,  the  same 
brilliancy.  There  are  nearly  four  thousand  persons 
in  the  King's  civil  household,  nine  or  ten  thousand 
in  his  military  household,  and  at  least  two  thousand 
more  in  those  of  his  relatives.  There  is  a  vast 
accumulation  of  rich  costumes,  of  uniforms,  liveries, 
coaches.  How  beautiful  is  the  park  of  Versailles  on 
a  spring  morning,  when  the  chestnuts  are  in  blossom, 
and  the  sun  lights  up  the  spray  of  the  great  foun- 
tains! The  terrace  is  crowded  with  women  richly 
dressed,  and  with  men  quite  as  gorgeously  arrayed, 
in  their  knots  of  ribbons,  their  lace  ruffles,  and  their 

1 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE, 


yellow,  or  pink,  or  sky-blue  silk  coats.  The  military 
bands  are  playing  beneath  the  trees.  One  may  see 
the  Swiss  Guards  in  their  sixteenth  century  uniforms, 
with  their  halberds,  ruffs,  plumed  hats,  and  full  jer- 
kins of  various  colors;  the  body-guards  with  their 
red  breeches,  huge  boots,  and  blue  coats  adorned  with 
white  embroidery.  One  beholds,  too,  the  crowd  of 
courtiers  with  their  attentive,  discreet  air,  with  the 
distinction  of  their  gait,  speech,  and  smile,  with 
their  reverence  for  etiquette,  and  their  boundless 
courtesy. 

Let  us  imagine  ourselves  at  the  last  court  balls  of 
1786  and  1787.  The  place  is  the  small  theatre  be- 
tween the  Court  of  the  Princes  and  the  park  where 
the  southern  part  of  the  palace  begins.  The  building, 
which  was  constructed  under  Louis  XIV.,  but  is  now 
destroyed,  is  thus  described  by  the  Count  d'  H^zec- 
ques  in  his  Memories  of  a  Page.  It  was  fitted  out 
with  wooden  pavilions,  which  were  kept  in  the  house 
of  the  Menus  Plaisirs,  and  can  be  set  up  in  a  few 
hours.  The  entrance  was  in  a  green  grove,  adorned 
with  statues,  and  at  the  end  was  a  billiard  room, 
which  was  a  little  sombre  in  color,  so  that  the  illu- 
mination shone  out  with  greater  brilliancy.  To  the 
right,  small  paths  lead  into  the  dancing  and  gaming 
room.  One  of  the  doors  consists  of  a  great  piece  of 
plate  glass  so  clear  that  a  Swiss  sentinel  is  posted 
there  to  warn  people  from  trying  to  walk  through  it. 
Marble  basins,  surrounded  with  moss  and  flowers, 
contain  water-jets  which  splash  all  night,  in  the  bril- 


INTRODUCTION. 


liant  blaze  of  lamps  and  candles,  giving  forth  an 
agreeable  coolness.  The  guests  at  these  delightful 
balls  are  the  most  distinguished,  the  most  attractive 
people  of  the  fascinating  society  that  sets  the  fashion 
for  all  Europe.  M.  Taine  thus  describes  their  charms, 
with  real  enthusiasm,  in  his  noble  book,  The  Origins 
of  Contemporary  France :  "  There  is  not  a  toilette 
here,  not  a  pose  of  the  head,  not  a  tone  of  the  voice, 
which  is  not  the  fine  flower  of  worldly  culture,  the  dis- 
tilled essence  of  the  most  exquisite  products  of  social 
art.  It  takes,  we  are  told,  a  hundred  thousand  roses  to 
produce  an  ounce  of  that  unique  ottar  which  the  kings 
of  Persia  use.  This  drawing-room  is  like  that,  a  minute 
flash  of  gold  and  crystal.  It  contains  the  substance  of 
a  human  vegetation.  To  fill  it,  there  was  required  a 
great  aristocracy  transplanted  into  a  hothouse  and  so 
rendered  sterile  of  fruits,  though  rich  in  flowei"S,  in 
order  that  in  the  royal  alembic  all  its  purified  juices 
should  be  concentrated  into  a  few  drops  of  perfume. 
Its  cost  is  most  extravagant,  but  only  in  that  way  are 
delicate  perfumes  made." 

Up  to  its  last  moment,  the  monarchy  was  imposing. 
The  royal  star,  before  it  disappeared  beneath  the 
horizon,  continued  to  shine  in  great  splendor.  Cha- 
teaubriand was  presented  at  court  May  19,  1787,  and 
he  thus  describes  the  occasion :  "  No  one  has  seen 
anything  who  has  not  seen  the  pomp  of  Versailles, 
even  after  the  disbanding  of  the  King's  former  house- 
hold. It  is  because  Louis  XIV.  is  always  here. 
Hence  a  presentation  is  not  a  thing  of  trifling  impor- 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


tance.  A  mysterious  destiny  hangs  over  the  new 
arrival.  He  is  spared  that  air  of  scornful  protection, 
which  with  extreme  politeness  forms  the  inimitable 
manners  of  the  great  nobleman.  Who  knows  whether 
this  newcomer  may  not  become  the  master's  favor- 
ite ?  "  The  doors  of  the  King's  bedchamber  are  opened, 
and  the  King,  who  has  just  finished  dressing,  takes 
his  hat  from  the  hand  of  the  first  gentleman  in  wait- 
ing, and  comes  forth  to  go  to  mass.  The  future  au- 
thor of  The  Martyrs  bows.  The  Marshal  de  Duras 
pronounces  his  name,  "  Sire,  the  Chevalier  de  Chateau- 
briand" ;  and  the  famous  author,  recalling  this  memory 
of  his  youth,  says :  "  Vanity  of  human  destiny !  This 
sovereign  whom  I  saw  for  the  first  time,  this  mighty 
monarch,  was  Louis  XVI.,  then  within  six  years  of 
the  scaffold;  and  this  new  courtier,  at  whom  he 
scarcely  glanced,  commissioned  to  separate  bones 
from  bones,  after  having  been  presented  to  the  gran- 
deur of  the  descendant  of  Saint  Louis,  on  proving  his 
titles  to  nobility,  was  to  be  again  presented  to  his 
ashes,  on  proving  his  fidelity  —  a  twofold  tribute  of 
respect  to  the  twofold  royalty  of  the  sceptre  and  of 
the  martyr's  palm." 

After  his  presentation  to  Louis  XVI.,  Chateau- 
briand passed  through  the  gallery  to  meet  the  Queen 
returning  from  chapel.  "She  soon  came  in  sight," 
he  says,  "  surrounded  by  a  large  and  brilliant  suite ; 
she  made  a  dignified  courtesy,  appearing  enchanted 
with  life.  And  those  fair  hands,  which  then  held  so 
gracefully  the  sceptre  of  so  many  kings,  were,  before 


INTRODUCTION. 


they  were  tied  by  the  executioner,  to  patch  the  rags 
of  the  widow,  the  prisoner  of  the  Conciergerie." 

Unhappy  Queen !  The  moment  was  drawing  nigh 
when  she  was  to  be  abandoned  even  by  her  courtiers. 
At  the  last  court  ball  in  1788,  no  one  wanted  to  dance 
with  her.  Madame  Vig^e-Lebrun,  who  was  present, 
speaks  of  the  festivity  most  sadly :  "  The  box  in 
which  I  happened  to  be  was  so  near  the  Queen's  that 
I  could  overhear  what  she  said.  I  saw  her  in  some 
agitation  inviting  the  young  men  of  the  court  to 
dance,  among  them,  M.  de  LamethJ  who  belonged  to 
a  family  which  she  had  overwhelmed  with  deeds  of 
kindness,  and  others,  who  refused  her ;  so  that  it  was 
impossible  to  make  up  the  sets  for  the  square  dances. 
The  indecorous  conduct  of  these  gentlemen  struck 
me ;  their  refusal  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  sort  of  revolt. 
The  Revolution  was  approaching ;  it  broke  out  the 
next  year." 

In  1787  Marie  Antoinette  had  already  noticed 
threatening  symptoms.  In  the  Secret  Correspond- 
ence, published  by  M.  de  Lescure,  there  may  be  read, 
under  date  of  February  19 :  "  Last  week  the  Queen 
was  much  applauded  when  she  reached  the  Opera ; 
and,  as  usual,  she  made  courtesies  to  the  public. 
At  that  moment  a  hiss  was  heard  from  the  crowd. 
Although  this  piece  of  insolence  must  have  come 
from  a  madman  or  a  wretch,  it  much  distressed  the 
Queen."  Certainly  he  was  right,  for  that  hiss  at 
the  Opera  was  the  first  sound  of  the  most  horrible 
tempest. 


MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 


In  the  same  Correspondence^  under  the  date  of  Au- 
gust 1, 1787,  we  find :  "  The  name  of  Madame  Deficit 
is  given  to  a  great  lady  who  has  made  certain  sacri- 
fices to  the  nation  which  was  in  no  way  authorized 
to  demand  them."  And,  September  25,  "  '  Athalie  ' 
was  recently  played  in  Paris.  The  public  applauded 
with  as  much  warmth  as  indecorum  these  four 
lines :  — 

"  *  Confound  in  her  designs  this  cruel  queen ! 
Deign,  deign,  my  God,  on  Mathan  and  on  her 
To  let  fall  that  spirit  of  imprudence  and  error. 
The  fatal  foreteller  of  the  ruin  of  kings.'  " 

The  moment  chosen  for  this  ill-will  towards  Marie 
Antoinette  was  the  very  one  when  she  had  abandoned 
these  faults  and  had  become  serious  and  exemplary. 
We  find,  again,  in  the  Secret  Correspondence^  De- 
cember 5,  1786,  this  sign  of  growing  gravity :  "  The 
Revolution,  which  has  been  so  long  prophesied  at  our 
court,  is  beginning  to  show  itself.  The  Queen  turns 
a  cold  shoulder  to  all  the  young  men  who  had  as- 
sumed an  air  of  familiarity  which  seemed  justified  by 
the  destruction  of  all  etiquette.  She  admits  to  her 
society  only  reasonable  and  decent  men,  if  such  there 
be.  All  the  high  officers  and  servants  of  the  King 
and  the  Princes  are  to  be  obliged  to  live  at  Versailles. 
In  this  way,  (Eil-de-Boeuf  and  this  gallery,  which  were 
deserted,  will  be  crowded  again.  It  is  supposed  that 
the  Queen  is  becoming  devout.  She  would  thus 
follow  her  mother's  example  at  an  early  age." 

So  long  as  Marie  Antoinette  was  frivolous  and  was 


INTRODUCTION. 


guilty,  not  of  real  faults,  but  of  imprudent  actions,  she 
was  the  recipient  of  general  flattery  and  admiration. 
But  so  soon  as  she  became  absolutely  irreproachable, 
she  was  overwhelmed  with  harsh  judgments  and  ill- 
will.     Such  is  the  world's  justice  I 

The  same  thing  may  be  said  about  the  nobility. 
As  M.  Taine  has  justly  remarked,  never  was  the  aris- 
tocracy so  worthy  of  power  as  at  the  moment  when 
it  was  about  to  lose  it.  The  possessors  of  privileges 
had  become  excellent  citizens,  worthy,  enlightened, 
charitable  managers.  They  defended  the  tax-payers 
from  the  treasury,  suppressed  the  duty  service,  multi- 
plied good  works,  taught  the  poor,  protected  agricul- 
ture, directed  every  reform. 

Turn  to  the  memorials  of  the  nobility  prepared  in 
the  bailiwicks  on  the  eve  of  the  States-General,  and 
you  will  see  that  they  demanded  for  the  French 
people  all  the  civil  and  political  rights  which  the 
Revolutionists  pretend  to  have  wrung  from  them. 
These  great  lords,  who  fought  in  the  war  like  heroes, 
and  at  Versailles  so  well  represented  the  splendors 
of  the  past,  were,  in  their  own  homes,  the  most 
amiable  of  hosts,  the  most  delicate  patrons  of  letters 
and  the  arts,  the  sturdiest  supporters  of  the  new 
ideas.  They  were  rich,  but  they  were  generous ; 
they  were  envied  by  the  ungrateful,  but  noble  hearts 
blessed  them. 

The  Viscountess  of  Noailles  said  with  much  truth  : 
^"  The  horror  of  abuses,  the  contempt  of  hereditary 
distinctions,  all  those  feelings  with  which  a  sense  of 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


their  own  interest  inspired  the  lower  classes,  acquired 
their  first  charm  from  the  enthusiasm  of  the  great. 
Those  of  lively  imaginations  hoped  soon  to  see  their 
wildest  dreams  come  true,  or  gladly  deprived  them- 
selves of  everything  of  the  nature  of  an  abuse,  in  the 
simple  thought  that  they  should  thus  attain  a  moral 
height  which  the  masses  would  be  generous  enough 
to  understand  and  to  respect."^  Going  back  to 
the  Golden  Age  of  the  Revolution,  she  exclaims : 
"  Heaven  knows  how  unjust  we  are  to  that  time ! 
What  generosity,  loftiness,*delicacy,  belonged  to  that 
distinguished  society !  How  solid  was  every  tie ! 
What  respect  for  sworn  fidelity,  even  in  the  un- 
worthiest  circumstances !  Never  has  romance  so 
manifested  itself  in  life  as  then.  I  know  it  is  pre- 
cisely the  reproach,  and  a  well-founded  reproach, 
that  can  be  made  against  this  society,  that  it  lacked 
moral  poise  to  an  extent  that  left  a  vagueness  peril- 
ous to  virtue.  But  is  not  that  the  general  spirit  of 
the  century?" 

The  whirl  of  new  ideas,  the  general  animation  and 
fervor,  made  conversation  varied,  witty,  and  elo- 
quent. The  differences  of  opinion  struck  out  sparks 
of  brilliant  wit.  The  French  nobility,  though  old  in 
certain  ways,  had  remained  young  in  others.  Yes, 
even  when  the  old  regime  was  in  its  agony,  it  was 
still  young  in  ardor,  courage,  and  hope.  It  was 
young  because  it  believed  in  love,  and  because  it  did 

1  Life  of  the  Princess  of  Poix  nee  Bemiveau,  by  the  Viscountess 
of  Noailles  (bom  in  1791 ;  died  in  1851). 


INTRODUCTION.  9 


not  know  the  general  disenchantment,  the  despairing 
scepticism,  the  disgust  with  life  which  are  the  shame 
and  the  punishment  of  decadent  society.  It  was  to 
fall,  but  gracefully,  easily,  like  an  ancient  gladiator, 
delighted  to  unite  in  its  last  years  all  its  qualities,  all 
its  charms,  as  if  to  make  itself  missed  and  to  permit 
Prince  Talleyrand  to  be  able  to  say,  "  No  one  who 
did  not  live  before  1789  has  any  idea  of  the  charm 
of  life." 

"  Gaiety,"  wrote  an  English  tourist  in  1785,  "  is  a 
peculiar  quality  of  the  French."  This  good  humor, 
this  singular  combination  of  irony  and  excitement, 
of  indifference  and  enthusiasm,  the  French  nobility 
preserved  up  to  the  time  of  their  severest  trials.  It 
seemed  as  if,  knowing  their  days  were  numbered, 
they  were  anxious  to  pass  them  joyfully,  to  multiply 
their  pleasures,  their  adventures,  their  emotions,  as 
much  as  possible.  To  those  who  prophesied  -the  ap- 
proaching calamities,  they  answered  with  an  incredu- 
lous smile.  As  Madame  de  Genlis  said,  their  feeling 
ing  of  security  amounted  to  extravagance. 

June  29,  1789,  at  a  meeting  of  the  King's  Council 
at  Marly,  Necker  said  very  innocently  (for  this  so- 
ciety was  perhaps  even  more  innocent  than  refined)  : 
"What  could  be  idler  than  fears  about  the  organi- 
zation of  the  States-General  ?  They  can  do  nothing 
without  the  King's  assent."  Was  not  the  Revolution, 
in  their  eyes,  like  a  vast  lottery  in  which  every  one 
imagines  that  he  has  a  winning  ticket  ?  What  could 
happen,  thought  the  nobles,  even  if  the  worst  should 


10  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

arrive  ?  A  little  war,  gentle  and  charming,  like  that 
of  the  Fronde.  No  long  campaigns  or  tedious  ma- 
noeuvres. A  few  sharp  thrusts,  and  fiddles,  balls, 
comedies,  love  affairs,  and  songs,  and,  afterwards, 
wise  reconciliation,  useful  reforms,  progress,  phil- 
anthropy, the  triumph  of  tender  souls,  the  progress* 
of  humanity  !  We  shall  speak,  shouted  the  lawyers, 
who  are  always  ready  to  speak ;  we  shall  ascend  the 
tribune,  we  shall  become  famous  and  be  appointed 
ministers.  We  shall  make  money,  said  the  financiers. 
And  financiers  favor  revolutions;  for,  as  a  clever 
woman  of  the  time  said,  discount  forms  more  than  a 
third  part  of  a  banker's  opinions. 

All  forms  of  amusement  followed  one  another  with 
giddy  rapidity.  Fashionable  men  and  women  lived 
a  double  life,  now  in  Paris,  now  at  Versailles.  A 
steady  stream  of  carriages  with  swift  horses  was 
rolling  incessantly  from  the  city  of  the  great  King 
to  the  real  capital,  that  of  pleasure  and  public  opin- 
ion. At  Versailles  etiquette  still  ruled;  in  Paris 
there  was  freedom.  There  were  delightful  suppers, 
such  as  Madame  Oberkirch  describes :  "Without  wit, 
without  eloquence,  without  knowledge  of  the  world, 
of  good  stories,  of  the  thousand  trifles  which  make 
up  the  news  of  the  day,  no  one  could  dream  of  being 
admitted  to  these  charming  gatherings.  Only  there 
was  there  any  conversation,  and  it  was  on  the  most 
trifling  subjects ;  it  was  all  a  mere  foam  that  was 
evaporating  fast,  leaving  no  trace  behind,  but  its 
taste   was   most   agreeable.     After   once   tasting  it. 


INTRODUCTION.  11 


everything  else  seemed  flat."  There  were  the  plays 
in  which  politics  mingled  with  literature,  and  the 
audience  was  more  interesting  than  the  performance. 
There  were  private  theatricals  in  which  the  most 
serious  professions  furnished  excellent  comedians ; 
many  judges  took  the  parts  of  Crispin  and  Marcarille. 
Great  ladies,  actresses,  demi-reps,  made  great  show 
of  luxury,  and  without  associating  together,  had  yet 
perfect  knowledge  of  one  another's  deeds  and  actions. 
Among  the  fashionable  promenades  was  the  Boule- 
vard du  Temple,  where,  especially  on  Thursday,  men 
used  to  ride ;  the  large  avenue  of  the  Tuileries,  and 
besides,  to  the  left  of  the  Palais  Royal,  another 
equally  famous  rideway,  where  good  company  was 
wont  to  assemble  in  gorgeous  dress.  In  summer  this 
was  a  favorite  resort  after  the  theatre;  the  women 
used  to  carry  huge  bouquets  which,  in  combination 
with  the  perfumed  powder  they  put  on  their  hair,  ren- 
dered the  air  most  fragrant.  There  they  used  some- 
times to  sit  till  two  in  the  morning,  listening  to  harps 
and  guitars.  Saint  Georges  would  take  his  violin 
there,  and  Garat  and  Alsevedo  would  sing,  giving  an 
improvised,  open-air  concert  in  the  moonlight.  The 
French  nobility,  which  was  as  admirable  at  a  ball  as 
on  the  battle-field,  generous  with  its  heart's  blood 
and  its  money,  which  greeted  the  first  rays  of  rising 
freedom,  was  to  maintain  its  dignity  to  the  last. 
Even  in  prison,  even  before  the  court,  even  on  the 
platform  of  the  guillotine,  it  was  to  remain  what  it 
had  been, — amiable,  courteous,  comme  ilfaut.    Of  the 


12  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

Conciergerie  it  was  to  make  a  drawing-room ;  at  the 
end  of  a  corridor  in  which  four  candles  were  burning, 
it  was  to  compose  madrigals  and  songs,  and  continue 
as  gallant,  as  gay,  as  graceful  as  before.  Is  there 
any  need  of  becoming  cross  and  sullen  because  you 
are  detained  by  accident  in  a  wretched  inn  ? 

Yet,  even  behind  bolts,  the  women  will  keep  alive 
the  holy  fire  of  fashion,  the  charm  of  elegance,  and 
the  prison-court  will  resemble  a  flowery  terrace  set 
in  a  framework  of  iron.  To  quote  from  Count 
Beugnot,  himself  a  prisoner  in  the  Conciergerie : 
"There  misfortune  will  be  treated  like  a  naughty 
child  who  has  to  be  laughed  at,  and  in  fact  the 
divinity  of  Marat,  the  priesthood  of  Robespierre, 
the  magistracy  of  Fouquier-Tinville  will  be  loudly 
laughed  at,  and  all  will  seem  to  say  to  the  bloody 
gang :  '  You  may  kill  us  when  you  please,  but  you 
can't  prevent  our  being  amiable  ! '  "  French  nobles, 
you  will  not  only  be  gentle,  you  will  be  courteous 
with  death!  After  knowing  how  to  live,  you  will 
know  how  to  die,  and  you  will  find  a  way  to  honor 
the  scaffold  by  leaving  upon  it  your  coat-of-arms  I 


THE   BIKTH   OF   THE   DAUPHINo 

THE  most  touching  thing  in  the  world  is  the 
suffering  and  then  the  joy  of  a  woman  who 
gives  birth  to  a  child.  Those  tortures  endured  with 
so  much  courage,  the  anguish  so  distressing  to  the 
husband  or  the  mother,  that  waiting  in  which  min- 
utes seem  like  centuries,  the  solemn  moment  in  which 
the  woman  seems  to  hang  between  hope  and  death ; 
then  the  ineffable,  ecstatic  joy,  the  heavenly  rest,  that 
sweetest  of  sounds,  the  child's  first  cry,  the  first  look 
the  mother  gives  it ;  —  what  is  sublimer  than  the  mys- 
tery of  birth,  than  the  living  poem  of  maternal  love, 
than  this  outburst  of  the  deepest  and  truest  feelings 
of  nature  ?  The  day  for  which  Marie  Antoinette  had 
so  longed  was  at  last  come,  and  Heaven  granted  her 
the  immense  happiness  of  giving  a  Dauphin  to  France 
and  to  the  King.  Poor  Louis  XVI.,  whose  lot  was 
soon  to  be  so  piteous,  with  what  love  one  saw  his 
happiness !  with  what  sympathy  were  regarded  the 
tears  of  joy  that  bedewed  his  honest  and  loyal  face  ! 

It  was  October  22,  1781 ;  the  whole  palace  of  Ver- 
sailles was  agitated  by  the  liveliest  emotions.     It  was 

13 


14  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

one  in  the  afternoon  when  a  Dauphin  was  born.  On 
this  occasion  there  had  been  abandoned  the  old  bar- 
baric custom  of  letting  a  crowd  fill  the  Queen's 
room,  and  only  a  few  persons  had  been  admitted. 
At  first  they  refrained  from  telling  the  Queen  that 
it  was  a  Dauphin,  lest  the  excitement  should  be  too 
great  for  her.  She  noticed  their  silence,  and  sup- 
posed it  was  a  girl.  "  See  how  reasonable  I  am,"  she 
said;  "I  don't  ask  any  questions."  The  King  did 
not  wish  to  prolong  her  uncertainty,  and  called  out, 
"  The  Dauphin  asks  leave  to  enter."  At  these  words 
the  tender,  —  dare  I  say  happy  ?  yes,  for  at  this 
moment  she  was,  —  happy  Marie  Antoinette  lifted 
herself  up,  held  out  her  arms  to  the  King,  and  then 
the  couple,  closely  embracing,  mingled  their  tears, 
which  were  so  delicious  that  the  Dauphin  lay  for 
some  moments  by  their  side  before  they  noticed  him. 
As  a  Swede,  the  Count  of  Stedingk,  said,  the 
Queen's  ante-chamber  was  a  charming  sight.  The 
joy  was  complete ;  every  head  was  turned,  and  all 
were  alternately  weeping  and  laughing.  Men  and 
women  who  were  scarcely  acquainted  found  them- 
selves hugging  one  another.  But  it  was  very  differ- 
ent when,  at  two  o'clock,  the  door  of  the  Queen's 
room  was  thrown  wide  open  and  the  Dauphin  was 
announced!  The  governess  of  the  royal  children, 
the  Princess  of  Gudmdn^e,  held  the  little  child  in  her 
arms.  The  applause  and  the  clapping  of  hands  made 
their  way  to  Marie  Antoinette's  chamber,  and  cer- 
tainly  to   her   heart.      An    archbishop   wanted   the 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  DAUPHIN.  15 

Dauphin  to  be  at  once  invested  with  the  order  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.  "No,"  said  the  King;  "he  must 
first  be  made  a  Christian."  At  three  o'clock  the 
child  was  baptized  in  the  chapel  of  the  palace  by  the 
Grand  Almoner,  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan.  He  was 
held  at  the  font  by  the  Count  of  Provence  and  by 
Madame  Elisabeth,  who  represented  the  godfathers 
and  godmothers,  the  Emperor  Joseph  II.  and  the 
Princess  of  Piedmont  (Madame  Clotilde).  In  his 
joy,  Louis  XVI.  gave  his  hand  to  every  one,  taking 
every  opportunity  to  say,  "  My  son  "  or  "  The  Dau- 
phin." In  the  streets  all  were  talking  and  embracing 
one  another.  All  classes  of  society,  from  the  highest 
to  the  lowest,  seemed  to  form  one  happy  family. 

Madame  Elisabeth's  friend,  Madame  de  Bombelles, 
wrote  to  her  husband  on  the  day  of  the  Dauphin's 
birth  :  "  What  touched  me  extremely  was  the  King's 
delight  during  the  baptism ;  he  was  continually  look- 
ing at  his  son  and  smiling  at  him.  The  cries  of  the 
people  who  were  outside  of  the  chapel  at  the  moment 
the  child  entered,  the  happiness  expressed  on  every 
face,  moved  me  so  much  that  I  could  not  keep  from 
tears." 

The  child's  nurse  was  named  Madame  Poitrine. 
"She  is  well  named;  for  it  is  enormous,  and  the 
doctors  say  her  milk  is  excellent.  She  is  a  genuine 
peasant  woman,  the  wife  of  a  gardener  at  Sceaux. 
She  has  a  voice  like  a  grenadier,  swears  with  the 
greatest  readiness ;  but  that  makes  no  difference,  in 
fact,  it  is  an   advantage ;    for   nothing   surprises   or 


16  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

disturbs  her,  so  her  milk  is  not  affected.  The  laces 
and  linen  given  to  her  did  not  surprise  her.  It 
seemed  to  her  very  simple ;  and  she  merely  asked 
not  to  be  compelled  to  put  powder  on  her  hair,  be- 
cause she  had  never  used  it ;  and  she  wanted  to  put 
on  a  cap  worth  six  hundred  francs  over  her  hair,  as 
she  used  to  wear  her  mob-caps.  Her  voice  amuses 
everybody,  because  she  sometimes  says  very  amusing 
things." 

Every  one  admired  the  royal  child;  they  even 
adored  it.  "  I  saw  our  little  Dauphin  this  morning," 
Madame  de  Bombelles  wrote  again,  October  29. 
"  He  is  very  well.  He  is  as  lovely  as  an  angel ;  and 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  populace  continues  the  same. 
In  the  streets  one  meets  nothing  but  fiddles,  and 
singing  and  dancing.  I  call  that  touching ;  and  in 
fact,  I  know  no  more  amiable  nation  than  ours." 

The  general  happiness  spread  over  France,  and 
even  to  foreign  parts.  Gustavus  III.,  King  of 
Sweden,  wrote  to  the  Count  of  Stedingk :  "  The  de- 
tails you  sent  to  me  about  the  delivery  of  the  Queen 
of  France  gave  me  infinite  pleasure.  No  one  could 
take  more  interest  in  it  than  I  do ;  and  I  assure  you 
the  joy  at  Drottningholm  over  the  Dauphin's  birth  is 
as  great  as  it  can  be  at  Versailles." 

The  different  guilds  went  to  pay  their  respects  to 
the  King  and  Queen.  When  they  had  entered  the 
courtyard  of  the  palace,  headed  by  bands,  they 
formed  groups,  as  if  they  were  on  the  stage.  Chim- 
ney-sweeps carried  a  chimney,  on  the  top  of  which 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  DAUPHIN.  17 

they  had  fastened  one  of  the  smallest  of  their  num- 
ber. Chairmen  carried  a  richly  gilded  chair  with  a 
nurse  and  child  inside  of  it.  Butchers  appeared 
with  a  huge  ox.  Locksmiths  were  beating  on  an 
anvil.  The  cobblers  had  a  little  pair  of  boots  for  the. 
Dauphin ;  the  tailors,  a  suit  of  his  regimental  uni- 
form. But  alas !  even  at  the  happiest  hours  of  Marie 
Antoinette's  life  there  is  no  lack  of  black  presenti- 
ments. There  is  a  note  of  Shakespearian  tragedy  in 
her  lot.  Among  the  guilds  there  was  a  gravedigger's 
scene,  in  which  they  appeared  with  their  tools ;  for- 
getting the  gloomy  nature  of  their  duties,  they  wished 
to  take  part  in  the  general  rejoicing.  But  at  the 
moment  when  they  were  passing  along  the  terrace, 
Madame  Sophie,  the  aunt  of  Louis  XVI.,  had  a  shiv- 
ering fit,  and  a  few  weeks  later  she  was  dead. 

When  the  guilds  had  all  passed  by,  fifty  women 
from  the  Market,  dressed  in  black,  and  nearly  all 
wearing  diamonds,  were  introduced  into  the  Queen's 
room  and  had  the  honor  of  presenting  their  congrat- 
ulations. Then  came  the  turn  of  the  fishwomen. 
"Sire,"  said  one  of  them,  "if  Heaven  owed  a  son 
to  a  king  who  regards  his  people  as  his  family,  our 
prayers  and  wishes  had  long  demanded  one.  These 
are  at  length  answered.  We  are  sure  that  our  chil- 
dren will  be  as  happy  as  ourselves,  for  this  child 
must  be  like  you.  You  will  teach  him,  Sire,  to  be 
good  and  just,  like  yourself.  We  take  upon  ourselves 
the  duty  of  teaching  our  children  how  to  love  and 
respect  their  king."    Then,  turning  to  Marie  Antoi- 


18  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

nette,  the  fishwoman  said :  "  It  is  so  long,  Madame, 
that  we  have  loved  you  without  daring  to  say  so, 
that  we  need  all  our  respect  in  order  not  to  abuse 
the  permission  to  express  it  to  you."  Finally,  turn- 
ing to  the  cradle  in  which  the  Dauphin  was  lying, 
"  You  cannot  understand  the  wishes  which  we  utter 
over  your  cradle ;  but  some  day  perhaps  they  will  be 
told  to  you ;  they  limit  themselves  to  seeing  in  you 
the  image  of  those  who  have  given  you  life." 

The  locksmiths  of  Versailles  accompanied  their 
homage  to  the  King  with  the  present  of  a  piece  of 
their  workmanship.  It  was  a  secret  lock.  Louis 
XVI.,  who  took  a  great  interest  in  mechanics,  wanted 
to  find  out  the  secret  for  himself;  he  did  so,  and 
at  the  moment  when  he  found  out  the  combination, 
there  sprang  from  the  lock  a  steel  dauphin  of  admi- 
rable workmanship.  The  King  was  delighted;  he 
said  that  their  present  gave  him  great  pleasure,  and 
rewarded  them  handsomely. 

January  21,  1782,  the  city  of  Paris  gave  great  fes- 
tivities to  celebrate  the  birth  of  an  heir  to  the  throne. 
January  21 !  Always  fateful  dates  !  Always  mys- 
terious forebodings !  What  was  to  happen  exactly 
eleven  years  later  to  a  day?  But  why  think  of  the  ter- 
rible future  ?  Let  us  drive  away  gloomy  thoughts  !  Is 
it  not  right  that  Marie  Antoinette,  with  such  trials  and 
tortures  before  her,  should  have  her  hour  of  glor}^ 
and  triumph?  What  grace  and  charm  masked  the 
beautiful  and  august  Queen  on  that  day  when  Provi- 
dence seemed  to  bless  her,  and  France  was  uttering 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  DAUPHIN.  19 

one  long  cry  of  love,  admiration,  and  devotion  !  What 
success !  What  applause  !  What  ovations  !  How 
majestic  she  was  when  she  appeared  beneath  the  portal 
of  Notre  Dame,  or  when  she  ascended  the  grand  stair- 
case of  the  H6tel  de  Ville !  That  evening,  all  Paris 
was  illuminated ;  the  Place  Vend6me,  the  Place  Louis 
XV.,  the  Palais  Bourbon,  were  ablaze  with  lights. 
The  decorations  of  the  H6tel  de  Ville  were  magnifi- 
cent with  golden  vessels  filled  with  lilies,  purple 
stuffs,  columns,  balustrades,  and  bands  of  music.  The 
fireworks  represented  the  Temple  of  Hymen.  Before 
the  door  France  was  to  be  seen  receiving  from  on 
high  the  august  child  just  born. 

Ah !  let  the  Queen  enjoy  in  peace  these  last  mo- 
ments of  happiness  !  Let  her  still  believe  in  the 
fidelity  and  kindness  of  her  subjects !  Let  her  still 
nourish  the  illusion  that  she  rules  over  a  loyal  and 
chivalrous  people !  She  is  at  the  summit  of  her 
glory ;  but  there  are  certain  heights  which  cannot  be 
reached  without  peril.  In  happiness,  as  in  the  at- 
mosphere, there  are  certain  limits  which  mortals  may 
not  pass.  Whoever  has  been  the  object  of  enthusi' 
astic  praise  and  intoxicating  flattery  must  await  crit- 
icism and  abuse.  Kings  and  queens,  geniuses  and 
great  artists,  suffer  this  same  fate.  All  happiness 
and  glory  must  be  paid  for.  Whoever  you  may  be, 
if  you  are  the  idol  of  the  multitude,  tremble ;  unhap- 
piness  is  not  far  off :  after  the  palms.  Calvary ! 

How  false  is  joy !  What  is  blinder  than  hope  ? 
This  Dauphin,  whose  cradle  is  girt  with  such  cries 


20  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

of  love,  so  many  blessings  and  songs,  is  to  have  a 
glooniy  fate.  His  agony  will  coincide  with  that  of 
the  French  Monarchy.  A  child,  weak  and  doomed, 
like  the  royalty  he  represents,  he  will  be  plunged 
into  sadness  and  overwhelmed  with  grief.  His  suf- 
ferings will  plunge  his  mother  into  despair,  and  will 
throw  a  black  veil  over  a  period  already  so  gloomy. 
He  is  to  die  at  the  moment  when  the  States-General 
are  opened,  which  were  so  fatal  to  the  crown ;  and 
the  public,  in  its  revolutionary  fervor,  will  pay  but 
little  attention  to  the  death  of  this  child,  whose  birth 
called  forth  such  transports.  The  deputies  of  the 
Third  Estate  will  have  no  respect  for  the  tears  of 
Louis  XVI.  They  will  want  to  talk  business  with 
him  in  the  first  hours  of  his  mourning ;  and  the  un- 
happy father,  wounded  by  this  lack  of  tact  and  such 
indifference  to  the  holiest  feelings,  will  not  be  able 
to  refrain  from  exclaiming  with  bitterness,  "  These 
gentlemen  then  have  no  children  ! " 


I 


II. 


THE  GRAND  DUKE  PAUL  AT  VERSAILLES. 

BEFORE  considering  the  calamities,  it  is  pleas- 
ant to  linger  over  the  period  of  the  last  illu- 
sions—  the  time  when,  as  the  Count  of  Segur  said,  the 
old  social  edifice  was  undermined,  although  there  was 
no  slightest  sign  of  its  approaching  fall;  when  the 
change  of  manners  was  unperceived,  because  it  had 
been  gradual ;  when  the  court  etiquette  was  the 
same,  and  one  saw  only  the  same  throne,  the  same 
names,  the  same  distinctions  of  rank,  the  same  forms. 
The  royal  star,  like  a  setting  sun,  still  lit  the  horizon 
with  magnificent  brilliancy.  France  was  more  influ- 
ential than  ever.  The  Revolution  was  only  lying 
latent ;  and  the  aristocracy,  like  a  man  smitten  with 
mortal  illness,  but  thinking  himself  in  perfect  health, 
was  never  fuller  of  charm,  of  elegance,  of  fire. 

Let  us  glance  at  the  court  at  a  moment  when,  for 
an  extraordinary  occasion,  it  appeared  in  all  its  glory 
and  in  a  sort  of  coquetry  exhibited  its  full  splendor. 
The  richest  uniforms,  the  costliest  dresses,  made  their 
appearance ;  the  most  precious  jewels  issued  from 
their  cases.     Louis  XVI.  himself  desired  pomp,  and 

21 


22  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

remembered  that  he  was  the  heir  of  Louis  XIV. 
Marie  Antoinette  was  in  full  radiance. 

The  son  and  future  successor  of  Catherine  the 
Great,  the  Grand  Duke  Paul,  who,  travelling  under 
the  name  of  the  Count  du  Nord,  with  his  wife,  Marie 
Fedorovna,  Princess  of  Wiirtemberg,  Montbdliard, 
had  just  reached  France  to  visit  Louis  XVI.  May  19, 
1782,  he  went  to  Versailles  incognito  and  heard  mass, 
hiding  in  a  tribune  of  the  palace  chapel,  took  part  in 
a  procession  of  Knights  of  the  Holy  Ghqst,  and  re- 
turned to  Paris  in  the  evening,  full  of  enthusiasm  for 
the  court,  the  dresses,  the  ceremonies,  and  especially 
for  the  Queen's  beauty. 

The  next  day  the  Grand  Duke  and  the  Grand 
Duchess,  accompanied  by  the  Russian  Ambassador, 
Prince  Bariatinsky,  and  all  the  members  of  the 
Embassy,  made  their  formal  entrance  into  Versailles. 
Louis  XVI.  was  waiting  for  them  in  his  large  study 
(the  bedchamber  of  Louis  XIV.).  "  Sire,"  said  the 
Grand  Duke  as  he  approached  the  King,  "  how  happy 
I  am  to  see  Your  Majesty  !  That  was  my  main  object 
in  coming  to  France.  My  mother,  the  Empress,  will 
envy  me  this  happiness ;  for  in  that,  as  in  all  things, 
our  feelings  are  the  same." 

Then  the  Grand  Duke  entered  the  Dauphin's 
apartment.  He  called  him  a  very  fine  child,  kissed 
him  several  times,  and  asked  many  questions  of  his 
governess,  the  Princess  of  Guemende.  "Madame," 
he  said  to  her,  "  speak  very  often  to  the  Dauphin  of 
to-day's  visit;  remind  him  of  the  attachment  I  prom- 


THE  GRAND  DUKE  PAUL.  23 

ise  him  in  his  cradle ;  let  it  be  a  pledge  of  a  lasting 
alliance  and  union  between  our  countries." 

The  same  day  there  was  a  state  dinner  in  the  hall 
of  the  Grand  Convert,  and  after  dinner  a  concert  in 
the  drawing-room  of  Peace.  The  palace  was  illu- 
minated as  on  the  days  of  levee.  A  thousand  lights 
hung  from  the  ceiling,  and  candelabra  holding  forty 
candles  were  set  over  each  pier-table. 

The  Grand  Duchess  had  brought  with  her  to 
France  a  young  lady  belonging  to  the  Alsatian 
nobility,  the  Baroness  d'Oberkirch  (who  left  the 
delightful  Memoirs).  Since  she  was  not  a  Russian, 
she  could  not  be  presented  either  by  the  Grand  Duch- 
ess or  by  the  Russian  Ambassador;  but  the  Queen 
sent  a  footman  to  the  Baroness  to  invite  her  to  the 
concert,  without  the  formality  of  a  presentation.  She 
said  to  the  Grand  Duchess,  "  I  should  have  been  very 
unkind  if  I  had  deprived  you  of  your  friend  when 
I  was  anxious,  on  the  other  hand,  to  make  everything 
pleasant  for  you."  Then  turning  to  Madame  d'Ober- 
kirch, she  said :  "  You  are  very  fortunate,  Madame, 
to  have  so  illustrious  a  friend ;  I  really  envy  you,  but 
I  cannot  help  envying,  too,  the  Countess  du  Nord  the 
possession  of  such  a  friend  as  she  says  that  you  are." 
Marie  Antoinette  spoke  to  the  Baroness  d'Oberkirch 
five  or  six  times  during  the  concert.  "You  come 
from  a  region,"  she  said  to  her,  "  which  I  found  on 
my  way  here  very  beautiful  and  very  loyal ;  I  shall 
never  forget  that  it  was  there  I  received  the  first 
greetings  of  the  French.  It  was  there  that  I  was 
first  called  Queen." 


V 


24  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

Madame  Campan  tells  us  that  Marie  Antoinette, 
who  did  the  honors  of  Versailles  to  her  Russian 
guests  with  such  amiable  and  attractive  majesty,  was 
very  much  frightened  before  she  went  into  the  room 
in  which  she  was  to  dine  with  the  illustrious  trav- 
ellers. She  asked  for  a  glass  of  water  and  said  it 
was  harder  to  play  the  part  of  a  queen  before  other 
sovereigns  and  future  monarchs  than  with  her  own 
courtiers.  But  she  soon  overcame  her  timidity,  and 
was  all  grace  and  charm,  inspiring  every  one  with  her 
brilliancy. 

May  23,  an  opera  was  given  in  the  great  theatre  of 
Versailles,  "  that  hall  which  by  its  shape  and  the 
richness  of  its  decorations  and  its  gilding,  looked  like 
a  fairy  palace.  The  opera  chosen  was  '  Aline  ;  or,  the 
Queen  of  Golconda,'  which  was  taken  from  a  short 
story  of  the  Chevalier  de  Boufflers,  to  whom,  it  seems, 
something  of  the  sort  had  really  happened.  The 
scenery  was  new  and  remarkably  lifelike.  One  would 
gladly  have  been  Aline,  to  rule  over  such  a  country." 

June  6,  Marie  Antoinette  gave  a  grand  festival  at 
the  Little  Trianon.  In  the  theatre,  a  perfect  gem, 
was  played  "  Z^mire  and  Azor,"  by  Grdtry.  There  was 
a  display  of  diamonds  which  dazzled  every  eye ;  then 
after  the  opera,  there  was  a  supper,  with  three  tables, 
and  a  hundred  places  at  each  one.  The  Grand  Duch- 
ess wore  on  her  head  a  little  bird  of  precious  stones, 
so  brilliant  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  look  at 
it ;  it  was  set  to  swinging  while  it  beat  its  wings  over 
a  rose.     That  evening  Madame  d'Oberkirch  was  try- 


THE  GRAND  DUKE  PAUL.  25 

ing  for  the  first  time  a  little  arrangement  which  was 
very  fashionable,  although  tolerably  uncomfortable. 
It  consisted  of  little  flat  bottles,  curved  to  follow  the 
shape  of  the  head,  and  containing  a  little  water  in 
which  lay  the  ends  of  the  flowers  worn  in  the  hair, 
thus  retaining  their  freshness.  ''  That  device,"  she 
said,  ''  did  not  always  succeed,  but  when  it  did,  it  was 
charming.  This  look  of  spring  on  the  head,  amid 
powdered  snow,  was  most  striking."  After  supper, 
they  all  walked  in  the  gardens.  Fireworks  lent  a 
magic  glow  to  the  trees,  the  plants,  and  the  lake. 
The  green  glass-plots  became  red,  blue,  and  yellow 
in  turn.  A  lantern  was  hung  in  every  shrub.  A 
perfect  summer  night  gave  charm  and  poetry  to 
the  entertainment.  The  illuminations  on  the  earth 
rivalled  with  the  moon  and  stars  above.  A  band  of 
music  hidden  in  the  greenery  filled  the  enchanted 
garden  with  sweet  sounds.  Marie  Antoinette,  in  all 
her  splendor,  appeared  like  a  goddess. 

June  8,  there  was  a  ball  at  Versailles  in  the  Gal- 
lery of  the  Mirrors.  This  gallery,  which  is  seventy- 
three  metres  long,  ten  metres  and  forty  centimetres 
broad,  and  thirteen  metres  high,  wdth  its  full  arch 
vault  decorated  througliout  by  Lebrun,  with  its 
seventeen  arched  windows  opposite  which  were 
arches  all  filled  with  mirrors,  made  a  wonderful 
place  for  a  ball.  There  were  abundant  chandeliers, 
and  candelabra,  and  lamps.  The  King  made  his 
entrance  from  the  drawing-room  of  War,  the  Queen 
hers  from  that  of  Peace.     On  these  occasions,  nobles 


26  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

and  ladies  made  it  a  point  of  honor  to  appear  in  as 
grand  dress  as  possible.  The  French  nobility  moved 
to  and  fro  in  a  most  brilliant  procession,  and  the  for- 
eigners who  were  present  were  amazed  at  its  incom- 
parable splendor. 

At  the  ball  of  June  8,  the  Grand  Duke  uttered 
one  of  those  happy  phrases  which  won  for  him  much 
reputation  during  his  stay  in  France.  Louis  XVI., 
who  was  surrounded  by  a  throng  of  courtiers,  among 
whom  was  the  Russian  prince,  complained  of  being 
incommoded  by  the  crowd.  Then,  when  every  one 
was  intimidated  by  this  remark  of  the  King's,  the 
Grand  Duke  said,  "  Sire,  excuse  me ;  I  have  become 
so  thoroughly  a  Frenchman,  that  like  them  I  thought 
I  could  not  get  too  near  Your  Majesty."  He  danced 
with  the  Queen.  Marie  Antoinette,  who  was  then 
in  the  full  flower  of  her  beauty,  had  never  been 
more  gracious  or  more  imposing.  In  the  course 
of  the  ball  she  said  to  the  Baroness  d'Oberkirch, 
with  her  customary  kindliness:  "Speak  a  little 
German  to  me,  that  I  may  find  out  if  I  still  remem- 
ber it.  Now  I  only  know  the  language  of  my  new 
country."  The  Baroness  spoke  a  few  words  of  Ger- 
man; the  Queen  pondered  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
then  went  on,  "  Ah !  I  am  delighted  to  hear  German 
again;  you  speak  it,  Madame,  like  a  Saxon,  with  no 
Alsatian  accent,  which  surprises  me.  German  is  a 
fine  language ;  but  French,  it  seems  to  me,  when  I 
hear  my  children  speaking,  the  sweetest  language  in 
the  world ! " 


THE  GRAND  DUKE  PAUL.  27 


June  9,  there  was  a  grand  review  of  the  French 
Guards,  at  the  Champ  de  Mars,  in  honor  of  the  Grand 
Duke.  The  aged  Marshal  de  Biron  marched  at  the 
head  of  this  fine  regiment,  which  was  always  a  favor- 
ite of  the  city.  The  Parisians,  who  always  delighted 
in  military  displays,  were  beside  themselves  with 
joy,  and  full  of  delight  and  admiration  of  the  French 
and  Russian  uniforms.  They  drank,  sang,  and  danced 
as  if  they  were  at  the  Porcherons.  There  was  no 
limit  to  the  applause  and  merry-making. 

The  next  day  the  Grand  Duke  and  the  Grand 
Duchess  went  to  Chantilly,  where  the  Prince  of 
Conde  gave  them  a  magnificent  reception.  "Chan- 
tilly," says  Madame  d'Oberkirch,  "  is  the  most  beau- 
tiful place  in  the  world.  The  lakes,  the  woods,  the 
gardens,  are  delightful;  the  naiads  at  the  fountains 
have  quite  the  air  of  the  court,  and  the  sandy  roads 
in  the  forest  are  a  thousand  times  more  charming 
than  those  of  a  flower-garden.  The  princes  of  the 
House  of  Conde  have  always  been  grand  and  chiv- 
alrous, and,  too,  I  know  not  exactly  why,  they  have 
always  been  more  j)opular  with  the  nobility  than 
their  elders,  the  Princes  of  Orleans.  The  Prince  of 
Conde  and  the  Duke  of  Bourbon  have  a  large  suite 
of  gentlemen,  all  famous  for  bravery  and  loyalty. 
The  intimates  of  the  Palais  Royal,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  held  in  slight  esteem  and  honor,  and  are  not 
received  anywhere  else.  They  are  evil  company  for 
a  young  man ;  they  are  a  bad  sign.  The  Count  du 
Nord  made  some  just  and  profound  remarks  on  the 


28  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 


subject ;  he  said,  speaking  of  the  Duke  of  Chartres : 
*  The  King  of  France  is  very  tolerant !  If  my  mother 
had  a  cousin  like  him,  he  would  not  stay  long  in 
Russia.' " 

Revolutionary  ideas  were  beginning  to  get  a  foot- 
hold at  the  Palais  Royal,  while  Chantilly  was  a  sort 
of  sanctuary  of  the  monarchical  faith.  The  Grand 
Duke  Paul  was  much  pleased  with  this  charming 
residence,  when  the  Prince  of  Cond^,  a  model  of 
courtesy,  received  him  in  great  pomp.  There  were 
two  dinners  at  the  castle ;  the  table  was  covered  with 
an  inexhaustible  supply  of  gold  and  silver  plate. 
After  each  course,  the  servants,  without  noise  or  con- 
fusion, threw  all  these  magnificent  vessels  out  of  the 
window.  But  nothing  was  lost:  precious  vessels, 
jugs,  and  dishes  fell  into  the  water  of  the  moats, 
whence  they  were  taken  out  in  large  nets.  At  the 
play,  the  back  of  the  stage  opened,  disclosing  the 
wood,  fields,  fountains,  and  lawn,  where  Vestris,  as 
ZSphir^  was  dancing  on  the  grass.  In  the  evening, 
supper  was  served  in  the  hamlet,  a  collection  of  huts 
like  those  on  the  stage  of  the  opera,  in  the  middle  of 
an  English  garden.  They  passed  through  the  Isle  of 
Love,  exactly  like  one  of  Watteau's  pictures ;  there 
was  a  statue  there  of  a  cupid  holding  a  burning  heart. 
On  the  pedestal  wa^  carved  this  inscription,  which  is 
thoroughly  in  the  taste  of  the  time :  — 

"  Offering  but  a  heart  to  Beauty, 
As  naked  as  Truth  ; 
Unarmed,  like  Innocence ; 


THE  GRAND  DUKE  PAUL.  29 


Wingless,  like  Constancy,  — 

Such  was  Love  in  the  Golden  Age : 

We  find  him  not,  but  we  still  seek  him." 

A  pavilion  had  been  constructed  in  the  grove, 
and  on  the  top  was  placed  a  band,  which  could  not 
be  seen  below,  and  the  music  seemed  to  come  from 
the  skies. 

Mademoiselle  de  Cond^,  who  was  then  twenty-five 
years  old,  who  had  been  but  two  years  out  of  the 
convent,  and  was  soon  to  take  the  veil,  helped  her 
father  to  do  the  honors  at  Cliantilly  to  the  illustrious 
foreigners.  She  was  a  very  intelligent  woman,  of 
great  beauty,  and  as  worthy  as  she  was  beautiful. 
She  had  every  gift  and  talent ;  she  sang,  played  the 
harpsichord,  painted,  and  composed  poetry.  The 
Grand  Duchess  said  that,  next  to  the  Queen,  the 
woman  Avho  best  pleased  her  at  court,  the  woman 
whom  she  would  have  wanted  for  a  friend,  was 
Mademoiselle  de  Conde.  On  leaving,  the  Russian 
Princess  was  presented  with  a  bouquet  by  a  pretty 
boy:  this  boy  was  the  Duke  of  Enghien,  later  the 
victim  of  Vincennes. 

The  festivities  at  Cliantilly  made  a  great  deal  of 
talk,  for  there  had  been  a  greater  show  of  the  luxury 
and  magnificence  of  the  old  regime  than  even  at  Ver- 
sailles. The  Parisians  said:  "The  King  received 
the  Count  du  Nord  like  a  friend ;  the  Duke  of  Orleans, 
like  a  private  citizen;  the  Prince  of  Cond^,  like  a 
sovereign." 

The  son  of  the  great  Catherine  had  much  success 


30  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

in  France,  where  all  the  wise  heads  perceived  the 
advantages  of  an  alliance  with  Russia.  Grimm  said, 
speaking  of  the  Grand  Duke :  "  At  Versailles  he 
seemed  to  know  the  court  of  France  as  well  as  his 
own.  In  the  artists'  studios,  especially  in  those  of 
Greuze  and  Houdin,  he  showed  great  familiarity 
with  art,  and  expressed  intelligent  admiration.  In 
our  schools  and  academies  he  made  it  clear  by  his 
praise  and  questions  that  there  was  no  form  of  talent 
or  of  work  which  did  not  interest  him,  and  that  he 
had  long  known  all  the  men  whose  abilities  or  vir- 
tues had  honored  their  time  and  their  countr}^  His 
conversation,  and  all  his  remarks  which  have  been 
repeated,  announce  not  merely  a  delicate  and  culti- 
vated intelligence,  but  also  an  exquisite  feeling  for 
the  finest  points  of  our  language." 

The  Grand  Duke  and  the  Grand  Duchess  left  Ver- 
sailles June  19,  1782,  to  return  to  Russia.  As  they 
were  leaving,  the  Chevalier  du  Coudray  addressed 
them  in  these  lines :  — 

"  By  your  agreeable  presence 
You  have  fulfilled  all  our  wishes. 
By  your  departure,  your  absence, 
Princes,  you  arouse  our  keenest  regrets. 
Such  are  now  the  farewells  of  France ! 
You  ought  to  stay,  or  you  ought  never  to  have  come." 


III. 

•  "THE   MARRIAGE   OF   FIGARO." 

DURING  the  stay  of  the  Grand  Duke  Paul  in 
France,  Beaumarehais  had  done  his  best  to 
interest  the  Russian  prince  in  the  lot  of  the  "  Mar- 
riage of  Figaro."  This  play,  which  had  been  written 
six  or  seven  years  before,  was  famous  before  it  was 
acted,  and  in  spite  of  his  untiring  efforts,  the  author, 
skilful  as  he  was,  could  not  get  permission  to  have  it 
played.  Against  him  he  had  the  King,  the  magis- 
trates, the  Lieutenant  of  Police,  Keeper  of  the  Seals. 
Louis  XVI.,  after  reading  the  manuscript,  had  said : 
"  It  is  detestable.  The  Bastille  would  have  to  be 
destroyed  to  prevent  dangerous  consequences  from 
the  performance  of  such  a  play.  This  man  turns  to 
ridicule  everything  which  should  be  respected  in  a 
government."  "Then  it  won't  be  played?"  asked 
Marie  Antoinette.  "No,  of  course  not,"  answered 
the  King ;  "  you  may  be  sure  of  that." 

Well,  even  after  this  statement  of  the  King's  had 
become  known  there  were  many  willing  to  bet  that 
the  play  would  nevertheless  be  acted,  so  thoroughly 
known    were    the    fickleness    and  feebleness    of    the 

31 


32  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

authorities.  Beaumarchais  had  said  in  the  piece 
that  only  little  men  were  afraid  of  little  writings. 
Many  great  lords,  who  were  averse  to  passing  for 
little  men,  felt  obliged  ardently  to  defend  the  "  Mar- 
riage of  Figaro."  The  Baron  de  Breteuil  and  all 
the  members  of  the  society  of  the  Polignacs  were 
among  the  warmest  defenders  of  the  play.  The 
manuscript  was  handed  about  in  liigh  society,  and 
the  most  distinguished  people  touched  with  rever- 
ence the  pages  fastened  Avith  pink  ribbons.  The 
privilege  of  reading  the  "  Marriage "  was  much 
sought  after  by  fashionable  people,  and  those  who 
were  fortunate  enough  to  have  read  it  were  much 
envied. 

The  Grand  Duke  Paul  was  one  of  this  number; 
he  thought  the  play  very  amusing,  and  Catherine  II. 
offered  to  have  it  brought  out  in  Russia.  But  Beau- 
marchais, whose  course  has  been  so  well  described  by 
M.  de  Lom^nie  in  his  excellent  book,  "  Beaumar- 
chais et  son  temps,"  in  spite  of  all  his  zeal  and  the 
influence  of  liis  friends,  could  not  secure  the  removal 
of  the  prohibition  which  forbade  its  performance. 
June  12,  1783,  he  came  very  near  succeeding  by  sur- 
prise. By  means  of  a  tacit  sufferance,  due  to  the 
protection  of  the  Count  of  Artois,  he  had  been  able 
to  order  a  rehearsal  of  the  play  at  the  theatre  of 
Menues  Plaisirs;  that  is  to  say,  in  the  King's  own 
theatre.  Tickets  had  been  distributed  bearing  a  pic- 
ture of  Figaro  in  his  dress  of  an  Andalusian  barber. 
The  carriages  were  beginning  to  arrive-. 


*'  THE  MARUIAGE  OF  FIGAEO:'  33 

The  Count  of  Artois  was  on  his  way  from  Versailles 
to  Paris,  to  see  this  long  and  impatiently  awaited 
rehearsal,  when  the  Duke  of  Villequier  came  to  tell 
liim  that  it  would  not  take  place,  that  the  King  had 
forbidden  it.  It  has  been  asserted  that  Beaumarchais 
exclaimed  in  an  outburst  of  wa^ath :  "  Well,  gentle- 
men, my  play  can't  be  acted  here,  it  seems,  and  I 
take  my  oath  that  it  shall  be  played  —  perhaps  in 
the  very  choir  of  Notre  Dame."  This  prophecy  was 
not  to  be  fulfilled  to  the  letter,  but  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century  was  to  see  something  still  more 
scandalous  in  the  choir  of  Notre  Dame,  —  a  prostitute 
enthroned  upon  the  high  altar,  and  receiving  adora- 
tion as  the  Goddess  of  Reason. 

Beaumarchais,  this  forerunner  of  the  Revolution, 
this  man  of  intrigues  and  strife,  this  many-sided  crea- 
ture, —  watchmaker,  musician,  ship-owner,  financier, 
pleader,  comic  author,  —  this  immoral  moralist,  in 
spite  of  his  pretence  of  regenerating  the  world,  this 
bold  publicist,  distinctly  modern  in  his  loud  ways 
and  his  fondness  for  advertising  himself,  was  he 
not  the  type  of  the  new  society?  An  intelligent 
observer  might  have  understood  that  the  jingle  of 
the  fool's  bells  would  soon  be  followed  by  the  sound 
of  the  tocsin,  and  before  long  the  Figaros  of  the  time 
would  change  their  satin  and  velvet  jackets  for  the 
carmagnole. 

But  society,  in  its  giddiness  and  thoughtlessness, 
cared  only  for  pleasure.  Confident,  joyous,  full  of 
life,  fancying  itself  strong  and  renewed,  it  regarded 


34  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

serious  men  as  pedants  and  liked  to  see  itself  laughed 
at.  To  amuse  itself  at  its  own  expense,  to  hiss  its 
image  on  the  stage,  seemed  a  charming  idea !  Were 
not  the  noblemen  of  the  time  of  Louis  XVI.  like  the 
flagellants  of  the  court  of  Henri  III.,  who  flogged 
themselves  as  they  walked  in  processions  ?  The 
deeper  their  scars,  the  greater  their  happiness.  What 
awaited  the  old  regime  was  not  illness,  but  suicide ; 
a  merry  suicide,  accompanied  with  jest  and  song, 
preceded  by  witty  speeches,  biting  epigrams,  and 
suppers  in  which  abundant  champagne  should  flow. 

Nothing  amused  the  nobles  like  a  satire  on  nobil- 
ity. The  more  they  lived  on  privileges,  the  louder 
they  denounced  abuses.  Voltaire  had  admirers 
among  the  clergy.  Beaumarchais  himself,  with  all 
his  marvellous  intelligence,  had  no  idea  of  the  full 
significance  of  his  attacks  or  of  the  importance  of  his 
play,  which  was  not  an  amusement,  but  an  event. 
He  no  more  desired  the  fall  of  the  throne  than  the 
overthrow  of  the  altar.  At  heart  he  was  a  monarchist, 
and  he  would  not  have  been  pleased  to  see  his  Figaro 
turn  republican.  Cold  water  and  black  bread  had 
no  charms  for  him,  and  he  was  one  of  those  who, 
tyrants  for  tyrants,  preferred  the  red  heels  to  the 
red  caps.  He  did  not  have  the  tastes  of  a  dema- 
gogue ;  possibly  he  wrote  revolutionary  literature,  as 
M.  Jourdain  spoke  prose,  without  knowing  it. 

Nevertheless,  lords  and  ladies  were  intriguing  to 
have  the  play  brought  out.  September  26,  1783,  one 
of  the  leaders  of  the  society  of  the  Little  Trianon, 


''THE  MABRIAGE  OF  FIGABOy  35 

a  friend  of  the  Duchess  of  Polignac,  the  Count  de 
Vaudreuil,  succeeded  in  having  it  played  at  his  castle 
of  Gennevilliers,  before  three  hundred  persons,  by 
the  actors  of  the  Ccmedie  Fran^aise.  The  Count 
of  Artois  and  the  Duchess  of  Polignac  were  among 
the  spectators.  If  we  may  trust  Madame  Vig^e- 
Lebrun,  Beaumarchais  was  beside  himself :  ''  When 
some  one  complained  of  the  heat,  he  did  not  wait 
to  have  the  windows  opened,  but  thrust  his  stick 
through  the  panes,  so  that  after  the  play  it  was  said 
that  he  had  hit  out  in  two  ways." 

The  amiable  Louis  XYI.  let  himself  be  carried 
away  by  the  general  enthusiasm.  He  was  assured 
that  the  play  had  been  much  cut ;  that  it  was  no 
longer  dangerous,  and  at  last  consented  to  its  per- 
formance. He  imagined  that  it  would  have  no  suc- 
cess, but  he  was  sadly  mistaken ;  never  did  a  comedy 
enjoy  such  a  triumph. 

The  first  performance  was  in  Paris,  April  27,  1784, 
in  the  theatre  of  the  Comedie  Frangaise,  now  the 
Od^on.  There  was  the  wildest  struggle  for  tickets. 
Nobles  applied  for  a  place  in  the  claque.  Grandees 
awaited  their  turn  in  the  long  line.  Women  of  the 
highest  rank  took  their  place,  in  the  early  morning, 
in  the  actresses'  boxes,  breakfasting  and  dining  there, 
putting  themselves  under  their  protection,  in  the 
hope  of  entering  among  the  first.  The  guards  were 
swept  aside,  the  doors  burst  open,  the  barriers  torn 
down,  people  smothered ;  nothing  was  lacking  to  the 
author's  glory.     He  had  just  been  dining  with  an 


36  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

amiable  priest,  the  Abb^  de  Calonne,  a  brother  of 
the  minister,  whom  he  had  invited  by  this  note :  — 

"  Come  !  come  I  My  Andalusian  barber  cannot  cele- 
brate his  marriage  without  your  official  bond.  Like 
sovereigns,  he  will  invite  by  placards  twelve  thousand 
persons  to  his  nuptials.  Will  they  be  happy  ?  I  do 
not  know.  This  child  was  conceived  in  joy.  I  hope 
he  may  be  born  without  suffering.  I  already  feel 
the  first  pains,  and  I  have  had  a  wretched  time  hith- 
erto. I  shall  need  consolation  and  very  spiritual  aid 
at  the  moment  of  the  crisis.  I  expect,  them  from 
you  and  from  another  priest  (the  Abb^  Sabathier)  in 
a  very  dark  corner.  Venite,  ahhati^  maledicemus  de 
auctore ;  but  above  all,  let  us  laugh  at  my  griefs  ; 
that  is  all  I  ask.  I  salute  you,  honor  you,  and  love 
you." 

In  a  narrow,  close  box,  between  the  two  priests, 
Beaumarchais  examined  the  audience  with  great 
satisfaction.  More  than  one  duchess,  as  Grimm  said, 
would  have  been  glad  to  find  in  the  galleries,  where 
ladies  never  went,  a  little  footstool,  by  the  side  of 
Mesdames  Duth^,  Carlin,  etc.  The  playhouse  was 
most  brilliantly  lit  by  a  new  method ;  the  audience 
was  nois}^  and  well  disposed.  When  the  naval  hero, 
the  Bailiff  de  Suff'ren,  entered,  there  was  a  round  of 
applause,  and  another,  a  moment  later,  when  the 
charming  actress,  Madame  Dugazon,  appeared. 

The  performance  began  at  half-past  five,  and  was 
not  over  till  ten.  At  that  time  a  play  that  lasted 
four  and  a  half  hours  was  something   unheard  of. 


"  THE  MARRIAGE  OF  FIGARO.'  37 

Contrary  to  the  usual  custom,  there  was  no  short 
play  before  the  long  one.  Was  not  the  ''  Marriage  of 
Figaro  "  enough  to  satisfy  the  general  curiosity  ?  Its 
success  was  enormous.  As  La  Harpe  has  said,  "  It 
is  easy  to  conceive  of  the  joy  and  delight  of  the 
public  which  found  a  charm  in  amusing  itself  at  the 
expense  of  the  authorities,  and  consented  to  be  ridi- 
culed on  the  stage."  Sainte-Beuve  has  said,  ''  The 
old  society  would  not  have  so  well  deserved  its  fate, 
if  it  had  not  been  there  that  evening,  and  a  hundred 
successive  evenings,  in  raptures  over  the  merry,  wild, 
indecent,  insolent  mockery  of  itself,  and  if  it  had 
not  taken  so  grand  a  part  in  its  own  mystification." 
Beaumarchais  himself  said,  ''  There  is  something 
more  amazing  than  my  play ;  that  is,  its  success." 

The  actors  and  actresses  outdid  themselves.  Every 
word  told ;  every  bit  of  satire  was  received  with  con- 
tinual applause.  The  public  recognized  itself  in  this 
picture  of  Figaro :  "  Never  out  of  temper,  always  in 
good  humor,  devoting  the  present  to  joy,  and  caring 
as  little  for  the  future  as  for  the  past,  lively,  gener- 
ous! generous  —  " 

"  As  a  thief !  "  says  Bartholo.  "  As  a  lord,"  says 
Marceline. 

There  was  great  delight  among  the  audience  at 
this  definition  of  a  courtier :  — 

"  Figaro.     I  was  born  to  be  a  courtier. 
"  Suzanne.     I  am  told  it  is  a  difficult  profession. 
"Figaro.     Receive,  take,  and  ask;  there's  the  secret  in  three 
words." 


38  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


This  reflection,  which  was  also  a  just  one,  was  re- 
ceived with  laughter :  — 

"  The  Count.  The  servants  in  this  house  take  longer  to  dress 
than  their  masters. 

"  Figaro.     It's  because  they  have  no  valets  to  help  them." 

Here  is  an  intelligent  remark  on  the  chances  an 
official  has  for  promotion  :  — 

"  The  Count.  With  character  and  intelligence,  you  may  some 
day  rise  in  the  office. 

^^ Figaro.  Intelligence  a  help  to  advancement?  your  lordship 
is  laughing  at  mine.  Be  commonplace  and  cringing,  and  one 
can  get  anywhere." 

And  after  this  keen  remark  is  a  picture  of  diplo- 
macy drawn  by  the  clear-sighted  barber:  "To  pre- 
tend to  be  ignorant  of  what  every  one  knows,  and  to 
know  what  every  one  else  does  not  know,  to  under- 
stand what  nobody  comprehends,  not  to  hear  what 
every  one  hears,  and,  above  all,  to  be  able  to  do  the 
impossible ;  often  to  have  for  the  secret  one  must 
hide  the  fact  that  there  is  none ;  to  lock  one's  self  up 
to  cut  quills,  and  to  seem  deep  when  one  is  only,  as 
they  say,  empty  and  hollow;  to  play  a  part  ill  or 
well,  to  set  spies  and  pension  traitors ;  to  loosen  seals, 
intercept  letters,  and  try  to  dignify  the  meanness  of 
the  methods  by  the  importance  of  the  objects,  —  that's 
politics,  or  I'm  a  dead  man." 

The  diplomatists  who  were  in  the  audience  laughed 
heartily  at  this  description  of  their  occupation.  The 
great  ladies  were  delighted  at  the  truth  of  this  re. 


"  THE  MARRIAGE  OF  FIGARO:'  39 

mark  of  Suzanne's  to  the  Countess:  ''I  have  noticed 
how  much  the  habits  of  society  enable  ladies  to  tell 
lies  without  showing  it."  They  warmly  applauded 
this  democratic,  but  very  true,  remark  of  the  same 
Suzanne  :  "  Do  women  of  my  station  have  vapours  ? 
It  is  a  malady  of  fashionable  people,  and  prevails  only 
in  boudoirs."  The  lords,  who  were  always  sur- 
rounded with  fawning  parasites,  applauded  with  en- 
thusiasm Figaro's  remark  to  Basil :  "  Are  you  a  prince 
to  be  flattered?  Hear  the  truth,  you  wretch,  since 
you  have  not  money  to  recompense  a  liar."  But  the 
moment  when  the  enthusiasm  turned  to  delirium,  to 
frenzy,  when  dukes  and  peers,  ministers.  Knights  of 
Saint  Louis,  and  Knights  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  were 
transported  to  the  seventh  heaven,  was  when  the  bold 
barber,  suddenly  turning  into  a  tribune,  said  to  them 
all :  "  Because  you  are  a  great  lord,  you  fancy  your- 
self a  great  genius !  Nobility,  wealth,  rank,  office, 
—  all  that  makes  you  very  proud  I  What  have  you 
done  for  all  these  blessings?  You  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  be  born,  and  nothing  else  !  " 

The  officials  in  charge  of  the  censorship  were  par- 
ticularly delighted  with  this  sentence  in  the  same 
monologue :  "  Provided  I  don't  speak  in  my  writings 
of  authority,  of  religion,  of  politics,  of  morality,  of 
the  officials,  of  influential  bodies,  of  other  spectacles, 
of  any  one  who  has  any  claim  to  anything,  I  can 
print  anything  freely,  under  the  inspection  of  two 
or  three  censors." 

The  ministers  in  charge    of   public    duties    found 


40  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

much  justice  in  this  phrase  :  ''I  was  thought  of  for 
a  place,  but  unfortunately  I  was  suited  for  it :  they 
needed  an  accountant ;  it  was  a  dancer  who  got  it." 
Those  in  whose  drawing-rooms  gaming  went  on  felt 
obliged  to  applaud  this :  "  There  was  nothing  left  for 
me  to  do,  except  steal ;  I  made  myself  banker  at  a 
faro  table ;  since  then,  good  people,  I  sup  out,  and 
people  who  are  called  comme  ilfaut  open  their  houses 
to  me  very  politely,  reserving  to  themselves  three- 
quarters  of  the  profits." 

Napoleon  I.  said  of  Beaumarchais's  comedy  that  it 
was  the , Re  volution  already  in  action.  This  Figaro, 
who  said  "  he  had  seen  everything,  done  everything, 
dared  everything,"  who  declared  that  ''for  success, 
tact  was  better  than  knowledge  "  ;  this  unscrupulous 
barber,  who  "  left  smoke  for  fools  to  fatten  on,  and 
shame  on  the  roadside,  because  it  is  too  heavy  a  load 
for  pedestrians  to  carry  "  ;  this  being,  "  plying  every 
trade  to  get  a  livelihood,  here  a  master,  there  a  valet, 
as  fortune  directs  ;  ambitious  from  vanity,  hardwork- 
ing by  necessity,  but  idle  —  with  delight ;  an  orator 
in  danger,  a  poet  for  amusement,  a  musician  on  occa- 
sion, in  love  by  fits  and  starts  "  ;  this  man  to  whom 
Suzanne,  who  knows  him  well,  says,  "  Intrigue  and 
money,  you  are  in  your  proper  sphere,"  —  this  Figaro 
already  talks  like  a  member  of  the  clubs.  Jests 
are  not  enough  for  him ;  he  requires  long  speeches ; 
he  makes  advances  to  the  pit.  The  Revolution  is 
not  remote. 

Is   the  "  Marriage  of  Figaro  "  a  school  of  morality  ? 


"  THE  MAliRIAGE  OF  FIGABO:'  41 

Not  the  least  in  the  world.  Basil,  that  singular  par- 
ody of  the  Spanish  priest,  "  that  pedant  of  oratorio," 
as  Figaro  calls  him,  has  very  advanced  theories  about 
conjugal  fidelity.  "Is  wishing  well  to  a  woman, 
washing  ill  to  her  husband  ?  .  .  .  Of  all  the  serious 
things  in  the  world,  marriage  is  the  absurdest." 
Count  Almaviva  thinks  that  "  love  is  the  romance  of 
the  heart;  pleasure  is  its  history."  Does  the  play 
end  with  a  making  over  of  morals?  Not  in  the 
least.  The  upshot  is  that  Figaro,  become  rich,  and 
married  to  a  pretty  wife,  will  never  lack  friends. 
"I  was  poor,"  he  says,  ''and  I  was  despised.  I 
showed  some  Avit,  and  I  was  hated.  A  pretty  wife 
and  a  fortune"  —  and  Bartholo  shouts  out,  "Every 
heart  will  turn  to  you  !  "  As  to  the  populace,  it  will 
continue  to  suffer  and  to  sing,  as  Brid'oison  declares 
in  the  first  lines  :  — 

"Xow,  gentlemen,  this  tjomedy, 
Which  you  judge  at  this  moment, 
Saving  error,  paints  the  life 
Of  the  good  people  who  hear  it. 
When  they  are  oppressed,  they  curse  and  cry 
And  agitate  themselves  in  every  way  : 
All  ends  in  songs." 

Almaviva  is  the  old  regime ;  Figaro,  the  new  society. 
Almaviva  is  corrupt.  He  regards  adultery  as  a  very 
simple,  natural  thing  —  on  tlie  part  of  the  husband, 
that  is.  But  he  is  always  in  good  form.  Even  when 
angry  he  is  a  man  of  good  society.  Doubtless  his 
faults  are  great;    he   is   "a  libertine   from  idleness, 


42  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

jealous  through  vanity,"  yet  he  is  not  odious  —  what 
do  I  say  ?  he  is  not  ridiculous.  Derided  in  the  last 
imbrogli^,  he  yet  plays  a  better  part  than  Figaro, 
who  believes  that  he  is  a  deceived  husband  before 
the  nuptial  blessing,  and  yet,  instead  of  suffering 
from  it,  finds  time  for  his  peroration  and  the  utter- 
ance of  maxims.  Almaviva  will  never  correct  him- 
self. He  will  still  run  after  Suzanne,  but  he  will 
never  betray  his  king. 

As  for  Figaro,  with  his  double  passion  for  intrigue 
and  for  gold,  what  will  become  of  him?  In  summing 
up  I  am  tempted  to  say,  with  a  man  who  cannot  be 
suspected  of  partiality  for  the  old  regime,  —  with 
Sainte-Beuve :  "If  we  take  the  two  characters  as  types 
of  two  contraste'd  societies,  there  is  room  for  hesita- 
tion, if  we  are  honest  men,  and  we  may  prefer,  after 
all,  to  live  in  a  society  under  the  rule  of  Almavivas, 
than  in  one  which  Figaros  should  govern.  .  .  .  Figaro 
is  a  sort  of  professor,  who  gives  systematic  instruc- 
tions, —  I  will  not  say  to  the  middle  classes,  but  to 
upstarts  and  pretenders  of  every  class,  —  in  inso- 
lence." However,  neither  the  Count  nor  the  barber 
is  estimable,  and  Beaumarchais,  who  had  but  a  faint 
belief  in  human  virtue,  did  not  paint  with  glowing 
colors  either  the  past  or  the  future,  either  the  old 
regime  or  the  new. 


IV. 


GITSTAVXJS    III.    AT    VERSAILLES. 

JUNE  7,  1784,  Gustavus  III.,  who  was  on  his  way 
back  from  Italy,  travelling  incognito  as  the  Count 
of  Haga,  reached  Paris;  he  took  up  his  quarters  in 
the  rue  du  Bac,  at  the  house  of  his  ambassador,  the 
Baron  de  Stael,  and  the  same  evening  he  went  to 
Versailles  without  announcing  his  visit.  Louis  XVI. 
was  hunting  at  Rambouillet ;  but  when  he  received 
word  from  a  courtier  sent  by  M.  de  Vergennes,  he 
left  his  brother  to  sup  with  the  hunters  and  left  at 
once  for  Versailles.  There  he  dressed  quickly  and 
appeared  before  his  guest  with  one  red-heeled  and 
one  black-heeled  shoe,  a  gold  buckle  and  a  silver 
buckle.  The  meeting  of  the  two  monarchs  was  most 
cordial.  A  magnificent  apartment  in  the  palace  was 
made  ready  for  the  King  of  Sweden ;  but  he,  desiring 
greater  liberty,  declined  the  invitation  to  stay  there, 
and  took  lodgings  in  the  town. 

At  that  time  the  Swedes  were  called  the  French 
of  the  north,  and  the  I'elations  between  the  courts  of 
Versailles  and  Stockholm  were  very  close.  Gustavus 
III.  was  very  popular  in  Fraijce,  where  he  had  already 

43 


44  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

been,  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.  The  Liberals  were 
very  glad  to  pardon  him  his  coup  d'etat  in  1772, 
and  the  philosophers  looked  upon  him  as  one  of  their 
followers.  The  most  fashionable  ladies  loved  and 
admired  him  ;  he  used  to  write  to  them  regularly. 
He  was  well  educated,  witty,  generous,  fond  of 
luxury,  the  fine  arts,  and  pleasure,  and  there  was 
about  him  something  very  sympathetic,  original,  and 
attractive. 

In  1784,  as  during  his  first  visit,  all  classes  of 
French  society  gave  him  the  warmest  welcome.  At 
the  theatre  he  wds  cheered ;  and  if  he  arrived  after 
the  piece  was  begun,  the  actors  would  go  back  and 
commence  it  anew.  At  the  supper-tables  of  the 
Countesses  of  Boufflers  and  La  Marck,  of  the  Duchess 
of  La  Valliere,  of  the  Princesses  of  Lamballe  and 
Croy,  at  the  Richelieu  and  d'Aiguillon  mansions,  he 
was  received  with  the  subtlest  flattery  and  the  most 
delicate  homage. 

Never  had  the  court  and  the  town  been  more 
attractive.  Marie  Antoinette  was  in  the  flower  of 
her  beauty  and  her  charm ;  the  year  before  Louis 
XVI.  had  signed  a  glorious  peace  which  established 
the  independence  of  the  United  States,  banished  the 
memories  of  the  Seven  Years'  War,  gave  credit  to  the 
arms  and  diplomacy  of  France,  and  showed  its  hon- 
est and  venerable  King  in  the  light  of  a  moderate, 
powerful,  peace-loving  monarch,  an  arbiter  between 
two  worlds,  a  protector  of  liberty  for  many  races. 
Calonne's  financial   schemes   inspired   confidence   in 


GUSTAVUS  tlL   AT   VEBSAILLES.  45 

inexhaustible  wealth  and  resources.  A  loan  that 
had  been  skilfully  placed  gave  everything  an  appear- 
ance of  marvellous  prosperity. 

All  the  Memoirs  of  the  time  bear  witness  to  the 
security,  the  confidence,  the  satisfied  national  pride, 
the  content,  enjo3^ed  by  France  in  this  year  1784, 
when  money  was  abundant,  the  crops  were  most  rich, 
optimism  was  the  order  of  the  day,  and  of  all  the 
people  in  the  world,  the  French  seemed  the  most 
devoted  to  their  sovereigns  and  the  easiest  to  govern. 
Life  and  hope  were  full  of  promise ;  a  cultivated 
society,  tolerant,  animated  with  new  ideas,  w^as  in 
the  enjoyment  of  liberty,  abundance,  and  pleasure. 
It  was  a  delightful  epoch,  refined,  sentimental,  witty, 
when  no  one  believed  in  the  power  of  evil,  and  every 
one  hoped,  through  science  and  philosophy,  to  over- 
throw ignorance  and  suffering ;  when  intellectual 
pleasures  were  triumphant  and  every  audacious 
thought  dared  to  assert  itself!  "Adversity,"  says 
the  Count  of  S^gur  in  his  Memoirs,  "  is  harsh,  sus- 
picious, and  gloomy ;  happiness  inspires  tolerance  and 
confidence.  Hence  in  this  period  of  prosperity  there 
was  a  free  scope  for  plans  of  reformation,  for  every 
proposed  innovation,  for  the  most  liberal  thoughts, 
for  the  boldest  schemes."  The  government  did  not 
want  to  make  itself  feared ;  its  sole  ambition  was  to 
make  itself  loved. 

French  society  was  then  regarded  by  ali  Europe 
as  the  highest  type  of  wit  and  politeness.  France, 
by  its  ideas,  its  literature,  its  luxury,  set  the  fashion 


46  MAHIE  ANTOINETTE. 

for  the  world ;  and  foreign  princes  visited  it  to  pay 
homage  to  a  superior  civilization.  Never  had  Paris 
been  so  popular.  New  quarters  had  been  devoted  to 
amusements  of  all  sorts :  the  Palais  Royal,  with  its 
many  shops  and  extreme  animation,  was  laying  the 
foundations  of  its  fame;  the  boulevards,  which  had 
been  recently  laid  out  and  planted  with  trees,  were 
filling  up  with  rich  dwellings,  coffee-houses,  and 
theatres.  Gustavus  III.  delighted  to  mingle,  unrec- 
ognized, Avith  the  crowd  of  Parisian  idlers.  Later, 
towards  the  end  of  his  life,  when  harassed  by  per- 
petual conspiracies  and  by  a  war  in  Finland  against 
the  Russians,  he  was  to  be  homesick  for  Paris ;  and 
he  was  heard  to  say  that  he  wanted  to  abdicate,  in 
order  to  return  thither  to  live  on  the  boulevards. 

"  We  live  in  an  age  of  wonders,"  exclaimed  Bach- 
aumont,  in  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm.  "We  were 
proud  to  be  Frenchmen,"  said  the  Count  of  S^gur, 
"  and  prouder  still  to  be  Frenchmen  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  which  we  regarded  as  the  Golden  Age 
restored  to  earth  by  the  new  philosophy."  The 
fashionable  dogma  was  the  unlimited  perfectibility 
of  man.  No  more  war !  was  the  general  cry.  No 
more  tyranny !  No  more  injustice !  No  more  cus- 
tom-houses !  No  more  prejudices,  or  obstacles,  or 
errors !  Civilized  man,  reformed  and  purified !  So- 
ciety freed !  Humanity  triumphant !  The  glorious 
and  peaceful  reign  of  virtue,  justice,  and  liberty! 
What  might  not  be  expected  from  a  country  that 
had  produced  men  like  Buffon,  Lavoisier,  and  Mont- 


GU8TAVUS  III.  'AT   VEBSAILLES.  47 


golfier  !  What  was  to  be  the  future  of  those  occult 
sciences  which  already  were  filling  the  public  with 
entliusiasm,  —  such  as  mesmerism,  somnambulism, 
and  magnetism?  Even  Gustavus  III.,  who  all  his 
life  was  curious  about  the  supernatural,  tried  Mes- 
mer's  magnetic  tub,  Avhich  so  fired  the  imagination 
of  the  Parisians,  and,  as  they  believed,  was  destined 
to  cure  every  ill.  No  longer  could  it  be  said  that 
there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun.  The  novelties 
of  science  became  most  startling.  The  year  before, 
the  first  balloons  had  risen  to  the  clouds  ;  and  no  one 
doubted  that  navies  would  ride  the  air  as  they  rode 
the  ocean.  Fouquet's  motto,  "Where  shall  I  not 
ascend?"  (^Quo  non  ascendamf^  no  longer  seemed 
fantastic.  Man,  who  had  conquered  creation,  was 
destined  to  control  the  elements. 

June  23,  1784,  a  fire-balloon  was  sent  up  at  Ver- 
sailles, in  the  Minister's  courtyard,  before  the  palace, 
in  the  presence  of  the  King  of  Sweden.  It  was 
decorated  with  the  initials  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Gus- 
tavus III.,  and  with  a  white  brassart,  in  memory  of 
the  coup  d'etat  of  1772. 

The  Swedish  King  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Ermenon- 
ville,  and  in  that  little  temple  of  philosophy  paid  a 
somewhat  interested  homage  to  the  memory  of  the 
author  of  the  "  Social  Contract "  and  the  La  Nouvelle 
HSloise.  The  admirers  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau 
announced  themselves  the  admirers  of  Gustavus  III. 

Marie  Antoinette  entertained  the  King  of  Sweden 
at  the  Little  Trianon,  and  there,  surrounded  by  the 


48  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 


young  Swedish  officers  whom  tlie  court  of  Versailles 
received  most  kindly,  he  might  have  thought  himself 
in  his  own  country.  Never  had  Marie  Antoinette 
been  more  amiable  and  more  charming.  Marmontel 
and  Gretry's  "Awakened  Sleeper"  was  acted  with 
fine  scenery  and  brilliant  ballets.  After  the  play  in 
the  delightful  little  theatre,  supper  was  served  in 
the  English  garden,  under  the  trees,  which  were  illu- 
minated by  colored  lanterns  and  fireworks.  The 
Queen  would  not  take  a  seat  at  the  table,  being 
anxious  to  do  all  the  honors  to  her  guests.  All  the 
ladies  were  dressed  in  white.  It  was,  as  Gustavus 
himself  said,  a  real  scene  from  fairyland,  a  sight 
worthy  of  the  Elysian  Fields. 

At  the  same  time  the  King  wrote  the  following 
letter  to  Louis  XVI.:  "Two  friends  ought  to  talk 
over  their  common  interests  with  perfect  frankness, 
and  when  two  kings,  like  ourselves,  are  personally  ac- 
quainted, it  behooves  our  dignity  that  we  treat  with 
each  other  directly.  .  .  .  Having  been  educated  since 
my  tenderest  infancy  in  a  firm  friendship  for  France, 
and  having  been  strengthened  in  this  feeling  by  that 
of  the  late  King,  Louis  XV.,  which  he  manifested  in 
the  most  perilous  moments  of  my  life,  my  most  con- 
stant aim  has  been  to  testify  to  him,  as  also  to  Your 
Majesty,  my  sincere  gratitude  and  my  desire  to  per- 
petuate the  union  which  has  so  long  existed  between 
our  two  countries." 

The  journey  of  Gustavus  III.  proves  the  high  posi- 
tion then  held  by  France  in  the  eyes  of  foreign  na- 


GUSTAVUS  III.   'AT  VERSAILLES.  49 

tions.  If  the  Revolution  had  not  broken  out  in 
France,  its  diplomacy  would  have  brought  forth 
important  results,  and  its  system  of  alliances  Avould 
have  become  most  firmly  fixed.  Louis  XVI.,  who 
was  the  object  of  universal  esteem  and  respect,  inter- 
ested himself  most  carefully  and  intelligently  in  for- 
eign affairs.  He  played  a  very  important  part  in 
the  European  concert,  and  his  ambassadors  were 
superior  men,  who  represented  him  most  worthily  in 
foreign  countries.  With  their  enlightenment,  their 
courage,  their  general  aptitude,  their  historical  tradi- 
tions, and  the  examples  of  their  great  men,  the  won- 
derful climate,  its  zone  of  waves  and  mountains,  what 
power  might  not  the  French  have  attained,  if  they 
had  not  been  divided  against  themselves  ? 

July  19,  1784,  Gustavus  III.  signed  with  Louis 
XVI.  a  favorable  treaty  of  alliance.  The  next  day 
lie  left  for  Sweden,  well  content  with  the  results  of 
his  journey,  delighted  with  the  French  court,  with 
no  suspicion  of  the  tragic  lot  in  reserve  for  his  host 
and  for  himself. 

It  seems  that  all  the  figures  who  appeared,  even 
for  a  moment,  on  the  scene  at  Versailles,  were  con- 
demned by  an  inexorable  fatality.  We  might  say  that 
every  one  who  crossed  the  threshold  of  this  palace 
was  thereby  doomed  in  advance  to  exile,  captivity,  or 
death.  The  conspirators'  pistols,  the  strangler's  bow- 
string, the  headsman's  axe,  were  hidden  in  the  dark 
mystery  of  the  future.  The  smell  of  blood  was  al- 
ready mingling  with  the  perfumes  of  the  court.     The 


50  MAMIE  ANTOINETTE. 

hour  was  approacliing  when  the  Grand  Duke  Paul  of 
Kussia  and  Gustavus  III.  of  Sweden,  the  two  princes 
who  had  been  so  graciously  received  in  France,  were 
to  be  surrounded  by  assassins. 

Gustavus,  the  king  so  admired  by  philosophers, 
became,  in  his  later  years,  the  victim  of  absui'd 
superstitions  and  credulity  which  is  the  punishment 
at  all  times  of  the  lack  of  faith.  Long  before  he  fell 
beneath  the  blows  of  traitors,  he  felt  that  he  was  in 
the  toils  of  a  hidden  conspiracy.  He  tried  to  dis- 
tract himself  in  the  tumult  of  noisy  pleasures,  which 
he  crowded  one  upon  another,  but  everywhere  and 
always  the  dark  presentiment  pursued  him.  At  last, 
in  the  fine  theatre  of  Stockliolm,  where  his  love  of 
the  stage  had  produced  many  marvels,  he  was  struck 
down  at  a  court  ball,  at  which  he  appeared  in  a 
domino,  by  regicide  courtiers. 

Paul  I.,  a  crowned  Hamlet,  desired  to  avenge  his 
father.  A  martyr  to  his  greatness,  he  suffered  on 
his  throne,  at  the  height  of  his  power,  inexpressible 
anguish  and  grief.  This  generous  man,  this  great 
Russian  patriot,  full  of  the  national  genius,  a  human, 
intelligent,  lovable  prince,  whom  Paris  and  Ver- 
sailles had  so  justly  and  warmly  greeted,  was  to  be 
treated  as  a  madman,  and,  like  Gustavus  III.,  to  be 
assassinated  by  his  own  courtiers. 


"THE  BARBER   OF   SEVILLE"    AT  THE  TRLAJ^ON. 


IT  was  the  month  of  August,  1785 ;  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, who  had  been  installed  since  the  3d  in  her 
favorite  summer  residence,  the  Little  Trianon,  was 
to  stay  there  till  the  24th,  the  day  before  the  festival 
of  Saint  Louis.  "This  outing,"  says  Metra,  "is  an 
almost  continual  ball.  The  lords  and  ladies  of  the 
court  dance  beneath  a  large  tent.  The  different  per- 
sons of  Yersailles  are  admitted,  and  the  parties  are 
many  and  gay."  There  was  nothing  prettier  or 
more  rural  than  the  Sunday  balls  on  the  lawns  of  the 
Little  Trianon.  The  Queen,  in  her  white  linen 
dress,  set  aside  the  sceptre  for  the  shepherd's  crook ; 
royalty  became  a  pastoral  like  those  of  Florian.  Lan- 
cret  and  Watteau  no  longer  were  the  models  ;  it  was 
Greuze  who  set  the  fashion.  At  these  Sunday  balls 
every  one  who  was  properly  dressed  was  admitted, 
especially  nurses  with  young  children.  "  Marie  An- 
toinette," we  read  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Count  of 
Vaublanc,  "used  to  dance  a  square  dance,  to  show 
that  she  took  a  part  in  the  pleasures  to  which  she 
had  invited  others.     She  used  to  summon  the  nurses, 

51 


52  MABIE  ANTOINETTK 

have  the  children  presented  to  her,  speak  to  them  of 
their  parents,  and  load  them  with  attentions." 

The  charming  entertainments  were  truly  demo- 
cratic. "  I  noticed,  with  one  of  my  friends,"  con- 
tinues the  Count  of  Vaublanc,  an  eye-witness,  "that 
very  few  who  belonged  to  the  highest  society  took 
part  in  these  entertainments.  They  did  not  hold 
themselves  aloof  from  haughtiness,  for  they  every 
day  were  wearing  plainer  clothes,  and  it  was  more 
and  more  becoming  the  fashion  not  to  wear  one's 
orders ;  but  rather  from  a  delicacy  about  taking  places 
which  others  passionately  desired." 

Marie  Antoinette  did  not  content  herself  with 
country  balls ;  she  was  going  to  act  plays.  The 
theatre  of  the  Little  Trianon  was  made  ready,  —  a 
real  jewel,  a  work  of  art.  At  the  present  time  it  is 
closed  to  the  public ;  a  great  pity,  for  it  is  so  dainty, 
so  charming,  so  replete  with  pleasant  memories ! 
Why  hide  such  a  gem  in  its  case  ? 

At  the  end  of  the  flower-garden,  on  one  of  the 
sides  of  the  French  garden,  near  the  summer-house 
which  used  to  be  the  summer  dining-room  of  Louis 
XV.,  are  two  Ionic  columns,  supporting  a  pediment, 
on  which-  is  a  cupid  holding  a  lyre  and  laurel  wreath ; 
that  is  the  door  of  the  theatre.  The  hall  is  in  white 
and  gold ;  the  ceiling  represents  an  Olympus,  painted 
by  Lagren^e.  Above  the  curtain  two  nymphs  sup- 
port the  coat-of-arms  of  the  deity  of  the  place,  Marie 
Antoinette.  The  accommodations  for  the  audience 
are  small,  but  the  stage  is  large  enough  for  the  most 


"  THE  BARBER   OF  SEVILLE:'  53 

complicated  plays.  August  1,  1780,  began  the  per- 
formances of  the  royal  company.  Grimm  wrote  at 
that  time,  in  his  Correspondeyice :  "  No  one  has  ever 
seen,  and  no  one  will  ever  see,  'Le  Roi  et  le  Fermier,' 
or  'La  Gageure  imprevue,'  played  by  more  illus- 
trious actors,  or  before  a  more  imposing  and  more 
select  audience.  The  Queen,  who  is  endowed  with 
every  grace,  and  knows  how  to  assume  all  without 
losing  her  own,  played  Jenny  in  the  first  piece, 
and  took  the  soubrette's  part  in  the  second.  All 
the  other  parts  were  taken  by  the  intimate  friends  of 
Their  Majesties  and  the  royal  family.  The  Count  of 
Artois  appeared  as  a  game-keeper  in  the  first  play, 
and  as  a  valet  in  the  second.  The  Count  of  Vau- 
dreuil,  perhaps  the  best  amateur  actor  in  Paris,  took 
the  part  of  Richard;  the  Duchess  of  Guiche  (the 
daughter  of  the  Duchess  of  Polignac),  of  whom 
Horace  might  Avell  have  said,  Matre  pulchrd  filia 
pulchrior^  that  of  the  little  Betzi ;  the  Countess  Diana 
of  Polignac,  that  of  the  mother;  and  the  Count  of 
Adhemar,  that  of  the  king." 

Marie  Antoinette  was  fond  of  the  emotions  of  the 
stage.  And  is  there  not  a  resemblance  between  real 
queens  and  theatre  queens?  They  are  equally  in 
sight,  and  alike  exposed  to  praise  and  blame. 

September  19,  1780,  the  illustrious  actress,  in  her 
theatre  at  the  Little  Trianon,  took,  with  great  suc- 
cess, the  part  of  Colette,  in  the  "  Devin  du  Village  " 
of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau.  She  was  very  charming 
in  this  play.    Her  mother,  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa, 


54  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

did  not  approve  of  private  theatricals,  "knowing 
many  instances,"  she  wrote  to  the  Count  of  Mercy- 
Argenteau,  "in  which  these  performances  ended  in 
some  love  affair,  or  scandal  of  some  sort."  The  am- 
bassador, who,  in  his  letters  to  his  sovereign,  was  a 
harsh  judge  of  Marie  Antoinette's  amusements,  was 
not  bold  enough  to  condemn  severely  the  perform- 
ance of  the  "  Devin  du  Village,"  because  he  had  re- 
ceived the  distinguished  favor  of  a  special  invitation 
to  see  it,  incognito,  from  a  closed  box.  Among  the 
audience  the  sole  members  of  the  court  were  Mon- 
sieur, the  King's  brother,  the  Countess  of  Artois,  and 
Madame  Elisabeth.  The  boxes  and  balconies  were 
filled  by  subordinate  attendants.  Not  a  single  great 
lord,  not  a  single  fine  lady,  was  admitted ;  there  were 
no  ministers,  no  diplomatists.  The  exception  made 
in  favor  of  the  Austrian  Ambassador  was  a  very 
flattering  one.  Consequently,  in  his  "  very  humble  re- 
port^' of  October  24,  1780,  he  was  more  lenient  than 
usual.  "The  Queen,"  he  wrote,  "has  a  very  agree- 
able and  harmonious  voice ;  her  way  of  acting  is 
dignified  and  full  of  grace ;  in  a  word,  the  play  was 
given  as  well  as  was  possible  for  private  theatricals. 
I  noticed  that  the  King  watched  it  with  manifest 
attention  and  pleasure.  During  the  entr'actes  he  went 
on  the  stage  and  into  the  Queen's  dressing-room." 

It  has  been  said  that  Louis  XVI.  hissed  Marie 
Antoinette ;  also  that  the  Queen,  having  summoned 
the  guards,  said  to  them  at  the  end  of  the  evening, 
advancing   to   the   footlights:    "Gentlemen,   I  have 


"  THE  BAREEB   OF  SEVILLE."  55 

done  my  best  to  amuse  you ;  I  should  have  liked  to 
act  better,  to  give  you  more  pleasure."  The  anec- 
dotes are  inexact ;  nothing  of  the  sort  happened. 

These  performances,  which  were  interrupted  by 
the  death  of  Maria  Theresa  and  the  delicate  condition 
of  Marie  Antoinette,  were  resumed  in  the  summer  of 
1782  and  1783.  The  Queen  supervised  the  minutest 
details  of  her  little  theatre,  —  scenery,  machinery,  cos- 
tumes, setting,  — she  regulated  everything.  Her  great- 
est success  was  as  Babet  in  the  "  Matinee  et  la  veill^e 
villageoise,"  an  operetta  by  Dezide.  Babet,  a  village 
Cinderella  lost  her  wooden  shoe,  like  the  fairy's  slip- 
per. Alas  !  what  Marie  Antoinette  was  to  lose,  was 
not  a  wooden  shoe,  or  a  slipper,  but  her  crown. 

In  1785  there  was  but  one  performance,  and  that 
was  the  last  of  all.  Beaumarchais  was  then  all  the 
rage.  The  "Marriage  of  Figaro"  had  been  given 
again  most  successfully,  at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais,  and 
the  Queen,  who  had  protected  the  author,  conceived 
the  idea  of  paying  him  the  most  unexpected  honor, 
of  giving  in  the  Little  Trianon  the  "  Barber  of 
Seville."  "Imagine  the  pretty  little  pet,  gentle,  ten- 
der, easy,  fresh,  tempting,  with  her  pretty  foot,  her 
slim  waist,  her  trim  figure,  her  plump  arms,  her  pink 
lips,  and  her  hands !  her  cheeks !  her  teeth !  her 
eyes!"  (The  "Barber  of  Seville."  Act  IL,  Scene  2). 
Yes,  this  part  of  Rosin  a,  this  charming  girl,  this  fas- 
cinating creature  whom  Figaro  thus  describes,  was  to 
be  played  by  the  most  imposing  and  majestic  of 
women,  the  Queen  of  France  and  of  Navarre. 


56  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

The  rehearsals  began  under  the  direction  of  one 
of  the  best  actors  of  the  Comddie  Fran9aise,  Dazin- 
court,  who  had  just  made  a  great  hit  in  the  "  Marriage 
of  Figaro."  It  was  during  these  preparations  that  the 
first  rumors  of  the  affair  of  the  necklace  reached  the 
Queen.  Marie  Antoinette  had  summoned  Madame 
Campan  to  the  Little  Trianon,  and  was  rehearsing 
the  part  of  Rosina  with  her  when  she  heard  from  her 
of  the  horrible  drama  and  the  inconceivable  enigma 
which  was  soon  to  fire  all  France  with  curiosity  and 
wrath. 

It  was  like  a  thunderbolt.  The  Queen  perceived 
at  a  glance  into  what  an  abyss  of  calumny  and  dis- 
grace her  cowardly  enemies  were  trying  to  hurl  her. 
But  she  did  not  lose  heart.  She  saw  that  to  abandon 
the  play,  which  had  been  announced,  would  be  to 
confess  her  guilt  and  show  her  alarm.  Far  from 
countermanding  the  play,  she  continued  to  direct  the 
preparations  without  a  pause.  August  15, 1785,  the 
festival  of  the  Assumption,  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan, 
Grand  Almoner  of  France,  was  arrested,  in  his  pon- 
tifical robes,  just  as  he  was  about  to  ascend  to  the 
altar  in  the  chapel  of  the  palace  of  Versailles.  Four 
days  later,  Marie  Antoinette  played  Rosina  in  the 
"Barber  of  Seville." 

Beaumarchais  was  present.  The  part  of  Figaro 
was  taken  by  the  Count  of  Artois ;  that  of  Alma  viva, 
by  the  Count  of  Vaudreuil ;  Bartholo,  by  the  Duke 
of  Guiche  ;  Bazile,  by  M.  de  Crussol.  "  The  few 
spectators    admitted    to    this    performance,"    writes 


"  THE  BARBER   OF  SEVILLE:'  57 

Grimm  in  his  Correspondence^  "found  in  it  a  unity 
and  harmony  which  are  very  rare  in  plays  acted  by 
amateurs.  It  was  especially  noticed  that  the  Queen 
threw  into  the  scene  in  the  fourth  act  a  grace  and 
truth  which  would  have  won  the  most  enthusiastic 
applause  for  even  a  less  illustrious  actress." 

It  was  indeed  a  singular  evening !  At  the  very 
moment  when  so  many  catastrophes  were  preparing 
and  so  many  storms  gathering,  it  was  odd  to  hear  the 
brother  of  Louis  XVI.,  the  Count  of  Artois,  exclaim- 
ing, in  Figaro's  Andalusian  dress :  "  Upon  my  word, 
sir,  since  men  have  no  other  choice  than  between  stu- 
pidity and  madness,  if  I  can't  get  any  profit,  I  want 
at  least  pleasure ;  so,  hurrah  for  happiness !  Who 
knows  if  the  world  is  going  to  last  three  weeks  ?  " 
It  was  the  sturdy  upholder  of  the  old  regime,  the 
future  emigr^,  the  prince  who  was  to  be  known  later 
as  Charles  X.,  who  uttered  democratic  phrases  like 
these :  "  I  find  myself  very  happy  to  be  forgotten, 
being  sure  that  a  great  man  does  us  enough  good 
when  he  does  us  no  harm.  As  to  the  virtues  which 
one  requires  in  a  servant,  does  Your  Excellency  know 
many  masters  who  are  worthy  of  being  valets  ?  "  In 
this  gaiety  was  there  not  more  show  than  sincerity, 
something  forced,  something  factitious,  and  was  there 
not  a  forewarning  in  this  speech  of  Figaro's  in  the 
mouth  of  the  brother  of  Louis  XVI. :  "  I  hasten  to 
laugh  at  everything,  lest  I  should  have  to  weep  at 
everything  "  ? 

Ah !  let  Marie  Antoinette  pay  attention  and  lend 


58  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

her  ear.  At  the  moment  when  the  trial  of  the  neck- 
lace is  beginning,  and  everywhere  are  circulating  the 
malicious  inventions  of  hate  and  falsehood,  would 
one  not  say  that  almost  all  these  calumnious  lies  are 
foretold  by  Basil :  "  Calumny !  you  don't  know 
what  it  is  you  despise.  I  have  seen  the  honestest 
people  nearly  crushed  by  it.  Do  you  think  that 
there  is  any  stupid  scandal,  any  horror,  any  absurd 
tale,  which  cannot  be  spread  among  the  idlers  of  a 
great  town  with  proper  care?  and  we  have  to  do 
here  with  crafty  people."  Beautiful  and  unfortunate 
Queen !  So  when  she  listened  to  this  definition  of 
the  crescendo  of  calumny,  must  she  not  have  grown 
pale?  "First  a  faint  rumor,  skimming  the  ground 
like  a  swallow  before  the  storm,  murmurs  pianissimo^ 
and  flits  and  drops  the  poisonous  dart.  A  mouth 
picks  it  up,  and  piano,  piano,  drops  it  adroitly  in 
some  one's  ear.  The  harm  is  done  ;  it  grows,  spreads, 
makes  its  way  rinforzando,  from  mouth  to  mouth,  on 
its  devilish  path ;  then  suddenly,  no  one  knows  how, 
you  see  calumny  rise,  hissing,  and  growing  before 
your  eyes.  It  spreads,  takes  flight,  whirls  about, 
covers  everything,  rends,  tears,  thunders,  and  be- 
comes, with  the  aid  of  Heaven,  a  general  cry,  a  public 
crescendo,  a  universal  chorus  of  hate  and  denuncia- 
tion.    Who  the  devil  could  withstand  it  ?  " 

With  this  performance  of  the  "  Barber  of  Seville," 
ended  the  theatricals  at  the  Little  Trianon.  The 
day  of  comedies  was  over.  What  was  preparing  was 
a  drama  ;  not  a  stage  drama,  but  a  real  one,  a  terri- 


"  THE   BARBER   OF  SEVILLE:'  59 

ble  one,  in  which  Providence  had  prepared  for  the 
Queen  the  most  tragic  and  touching  part.  The  pro- 
logue was  already  beginning  in  this  strange  and  fatal 
affair  of  the  necklace,  the  plot  of  which  recalls  the 
most  complicated  plays.  We  shall  try  to  set  some  of 
the  characters  on  the  stage 


THE   CARDINAL  DE  ROHAN. 

THERE  is  no  more  curious  trial  than  that  about 
the  necklace.  It  is  a  sort  of  romance,  which 
seems  the  invention  of  calumny  and  hate ;  a  strange 
mixture  of  seriousness  and  frivolity,  as  inexplicable 
as  an  enigma,  as  full  of  incident  as  a  play ;  a  tragi- 
comedy designed  to  pique  and  amuse  the  malevolence 
of  the  public ;  a  plot  more  strange  and  improbable 
than  even  Beaumarchais  could  have  invented ;  a  pro- 
logue to  the  Revolution,  one  in  which  everything  is 
a  matter  of  surprise  :  the  persons  accused,  the  judges, 
the  public,  the  investigation,  the  trial,  the  verdict. 

Such  a  character  as  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan  can 
appear  only  in  a  society  that  is  on  the  point  of 
perishing.  This  priest,  who  is  a  man  of  the  world, 
and  cannot  live  on  less  than  twelve  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  a  year ;  this  bishop,  prince,  and  ambassa- 
dor, who  changes  his  cassock  for  a  hunting-coat,  and 
prefers  drawing-rooms  and  boudoirs  to  churches  and 
sacristies ;  this  ecclesiastical  Don  Juan,  glittering  in 
golden  chasubles,  whose  pastoral  ring  is  a  jewel  of 
inestimable  value,  whose  lace  rochets  fill  the  most 
60 


THE  CARDINAL  DE  BOUAN.  61 

fashionable  beauties  with  envy ;  this  cardinal,  who 
makes  his  appearance  between  a  charlatan  and  a  de- 
praved woman,  between  a  Cagliostro  and  a  Madame 
de  La  Motte  ;  this  intelligent  and  foolish  man,  simple 
and  corrupt,  generous  and  most  crafty,  sceptical  and 
incredulous,  is  surely  a  most  characteristic  figure. 
What  dreams,  what  follies,  haunt  the  imagination  of 
this  prince  of  the  Church,  who  aspires  to  the  glory 
of  the  great  Richelieu  and  the  good  fortunes  of  the 
skilful  Mazarin  !  What  ambitions  fire  the  brain  of  this 
dreamer  who  fancies  himself  on  the  point  of  discov- 
ering the  philosopher's  stone,  and  boasts  that  soon, 
thanks  to  the  magical  power  of  his  friend  Cagliostro, 
he  is  to  become  the  mightiest  and  richest  prince  in 
the  world !  Beneath  his  aristocratic  calm,  under  the 
reserve  of  good  society,  what  excitement,  what  tem- 
pests, what  delirium  prevails  I  This  man  who  makes 
his  grand  vicar  write  his  charges,  and  writes  his  love- 
letters  himself ;  who  is  more  interested  in  a  sorcerer's 
conjuring-book  than  in  the  holy  words  of  the  Church ; 
this  bishop,  this  cardinal,  who,  as  if  in  scorn,  is  the 
Grand  Almoner  of  France  at  the  moment  when  the 
clergy,  attacked  by  the  philosophers,  ought  to  be 
adding  to  its  wisdom,  its  austerity,  its  virtue  —  this 
man  is  the  incarnation  of  all  the  elegance  and  all  the 
vices  of  the  crumbling  society. 

Louis  Rend  Edouard  de  Rohan  was  born  in  1734. 
His  high  rank  raised  him  speedily  to  ecclesiastical 
dignity.  When  Marie  Antoinette  arrived  in  France, 
in  1770,  to  marry  the  Dauphin,  he  was  the  suifragan 


62  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

bishop  of  his  uncle,  the  Cardinal  Consbantin  de  Ro- 
han, Prince  Bishop  of  Strasburg.  In  the  absence  of 
his  uncle,  who  was  ill,  he  received  the  Dauphiness  at 
the  cathedral  door,  and  congratulated  her. 

The  21st  of  June,  in  the  next  year,  Marie  Antoi- 
nette wrote  to  her  mother:  ''It  is  said  that  the 
suffragan  bishop  of  Strasburg  is  to  go  to  Vienna. 
He  belongs  to  a  very  great  family,  but  his  life  hitherto 
has  been  much  more  that  of  a  soldier  than  of  a 
bishop." 

For  her  part,  Maria  Theresa  wrote  to  the  Count 
of  Mercy,  July  8 :  ''  I  have  every  reason  to  be  dis- 
satisfied with  the  choice  of  such  a  worthless  person 
for  French  Ambassador  at  this  court.  I  should,  per- 
haps, have  refused  to  receive  him,  if  I  had  not  been 
withheld  by  the  consideration  of  the  annoyance  to 
my  daughter  this  action  might  call  forth;  but  you 
must  not  neglect  to  let  the  French  court  know  that 
it  would  do  well  to  recommend  to  the  Ambassador 
discreet  behavior,  such  as  becomes  his  position  and 
the  office  he  is  to  fill ;  and  that,  moreover,  I  should 
not  be  over-ready  to  wink  at  any  extravagances  or 
scandals  in  which  he  may  be  inclined  to  indulge." 

Once  in  Vienna,  Prince  Louis,  —  for  so  the  future 
cardinal  was  then  styled,  —  displayed  extraordinary 
pomp  and  luxury.  His  maimer  of  life  was  regal :  he 
kept  a  stable  of  fifty  horses,  had  two  state  carriages 
which  cost  twenty  thousand  francs  apiece,  a  first 
equerry,  a  sub-equerry,  two  grooms,  seven  pages  of 
noble  birth,  with  their  tutor  and  guardian,  two  gen- 


TBE  CABBINAL   BE  BOHAN.  63 

tie  men  to  do  the  honors  of  the  bedchamber,  a  head 
butler,  a  chief  cook,  two  footmen,  four  running- 
footmen  in  gold  livery,  six  valets  de  chambre,  twelve 
footmen  for  the  house,  tw^o  porters,  ten  musicians 
clad  in  scarlet,  a  steward,  a  treasurer  ;  finally,  for  the 
diplomatic  work,  four  secretaries  and  four  gentlemen. 
His  gallantry  was  notorious.  He  was  always  at  the 
theatre.  He  used  to  wear  the  different  hunting-uni- 
forms of  the  noblemen  whom  he  visited. 

One  Corpus  Christi  Day,  he  and  all  the  Embassy, 
in  their  green  uniforms  slashed  with  gold,  broke 
through  a  procession  which  blocked  their  path,  in 
order  to  join  a  hunting-party  given  by  the  Prince  of 
Paar.  His  prodigality  was  excessive,  and  the  conduct 
of  his  suite  was  most  scandalous.  Maria  Theresa 
hated  him  as  if  she  had  a  presentiment  of  the  harm 
he  was  to  do  Marie  Antoinette.  The  Empress  wrote 
to  the  Count  of  Mercy-Argenteau,  January  19,  1772 : 
"  I  cannot  express  approval  of  the  Ambassador  Rohan. 
He  is  a  huge  volume  of  evil  language  which  is  ill 
suited  to  his  position  as  ecclesiastic  and  as  minister ; 
he  lets  it  flow  in  the  most  impudent  way  on  every 
occasion,  with  no  knowledge  of  affairs  and  without 
the  necessary  gifts,  but  full  of  levity,  presumption, 
and  indifference.  .  .  .  His  suite  is  also  a  collection 
of  people  destitute  of  merit  and  of  morals." 

Every  day  Maria  Theresa  complained  more  bit- 
terly. She  wrote  again  to  the  Count  of  Mercy, 
March  18,  1772:  "The  Prince  de  Rohan  displeases 
me  more  and  more ;    he  is  a  worthless  fellow.  .  .  . 


64  MARIE  ANTOINETTE, 

To  be  sure,  the  Emperor  likes  to  talk  with  him,  but 
it  is  only  to  draw  out  his  stupid,  bragging  chatter." 
September  1  of  the  same  year :  "  Rohan  is  always  the 
same ;  yet  nearly  all  our  women,  3^oung  and  old, 
pretty  or  plain,  are  none  the  less  fascinated  by  this 
extravagant  and  ridiculous  villain."  May  15,  1773: 
"  The  sooner  Rohan  is  recalled,  the  better  pleased 
I  shall  be.  He  is  unendurable."  And  in  July: 
"There  is  no  need  of  hoping  for  any  change  in  the 
conduct  of  the  Prince  de  Rohan.  He  is  incorrigible, 
and  his  servants,  the  rascals,  are  just  like  their 
worthless  master.  They  corrupt  my  people,  exactly 
as  their  master  corrupts  the  nobility.  Their  inso- 
lence goes  to  the  wildest  excesses  and  fills  my  sub- 
jects with  indignation." 

It  was  during  his  embassy  in  Vienna  that  Rohan 
lost  the  friendship  of  Marie  Antoinette.  One  evening, 
Madame  Du  Barry  read  aloud,  at  the  King's  supper- 
table,  in  the  Dauphin's  presence,  a  letter  in  which 
the  Ambassador  described  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa 
as  holding  in  one  hand  a  handkerchief  with  which  to 
wipe  away  the  tears  she  was  shedding  over  the  woes 
of  Poland,  while  in  the  other  she  was  holding  a 
sword  wherewith  to  divide  that  unfortunate  country. 
The  letter,  which  was  a  confidential  one,  had  been 
written,  not  to  Madame  Du  Barry,  but  to  the  Duke 
of  Aiguillon.  Marie  Antoinette,  however,  thought 
that  it  was  written  to  the  Countess,  and  could  not 
forgive  the  Ambassador  for  choosing  such  a  corre- 
spondent or  for  presuming  to  criticise  Maria  Theresa. 


THE  CARDINAL  BE  BOHAN.  65 


The  Prince  de  Rohan  held  the  post  of  ambassador 
for  only  two  years.  When  Louis  XVI.  ascended  the 
throne,  Rohan  appeared  to  be  in  disgrace,  which,  how- 
ever, did  not  prevent  his  being  loaded  with  honors. 
A  relative  of  his,  the  Countess  of  Marsan,  who  had 
brought  up  the  King,  succeeded  by  her  insistence  in 
having  him  appointed  Grand  Almoner  of  France,  on 
the  death  of  the  Cardinal  de  La  Roche-Aymon,  in 
1777.  Then  he  became  Prince  Bishop  of  Strasburg, 
in  1779,  on  the  death  of  his  uncle,  whose  suffragan  he 
had  been.  He  obtained  his  cardinal's  hat  through 
the  favor  of  Stanislas  Poniatowski,  King  of  Poland, 
and  the  abbey  of  Saint  Waast,  with  its  enormous 
revenues.  He  was  admitted  to  the  French  Academy, 
and  chosen  Principal  of  the  Sorbonne.  This  last 
position,  which  was  much  sought  after  by  the  high 
dignitaries  of  the  Church,  was  filled  by  the  votes  of 
the  graduate  ecclesiastics  and  the  doctors  of  the  Sor- 
bonne. The  cardinals  did  their  best  to  secure  this 
post  at  the  head  of  this  famous  institution,  the  sanc- 
tuary of  theology,  the  stronghold  of  religion ;  but  the 
Grand  Almoner  succeeded  over  all  his  rivals. 

Part  of  the  time  he  lived  in  Paris,  in  a  splendid 
mansion  in  the  rue  Vieille  du  Temple,  which  is  now 
the  National  Printing-house,  and  part  of  the  time 
at  Saverne,  in  a  magnificent  palace.  The  Baroness 
Oberkirch,  who  visited  him  there  in  1780,  was  much 
struck  by  the  pomp  he  displayed.  She  describes  him 
as  handsome,  polite,  majestic,  coming  out  of  his 
chapel  in  a  cassock  of  scarlet  watered  silk  and  an  Eng- 


66  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

lish  rochet  of  inestimable  value.  When  he  officiated  at 
Versailles  he  wore  an  alb,  for  great  ceremonies,  of 
such  valuable  lace  that  one  hardly  dared  touch  it; 
his  arms  and  motto  were  arranged  in  medallions 
above  large  flowers,  and  it  was  estimated  to  be  worth 
a  hundred  thousand  francs.  In  his  hand  he  carried 
an  illuminated  missal,  a  family  heirloom,  of  royal  mag- 
nificence. "  He  came  to  meet  us,"  Madame  d'Ober- 
kirch  goes  on,  "  with  an  air  of  a  great  lord's  gallantry 
and  politeness  such  as  I  have  seldom  seen.  The  Car- 
dinal was  highly  educated  and  very  amiable." 

This  handsome  prelate,  so  rich  and  flattered,  fan- 
cied himself  a  victim  of  fate.  As  Grand  Almoner 
of  France,  he  was  at  the  head  of  the  episcopate  and 
the  clergy ;  no  bishop  could  see  the  King  except  with 
his  permission ;  he  held  the  patronage  of  all  the 
positions  as  King's  almoners,  eight  in  number,  and 
those  as  chaplains,  with  their  large  livings.  He  was 
not  satisfied  with  being  a  Prince  of  the  House  of 
Rohan,  Cardinal,  Grand  Almoner  of  France,  a  Knight 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  Bishop  of  Strasburg,  Sovereign 
Prince  of  Hildesheim,  Abbot  of  Noirmoutiers  and 
of  Saint  Waast,  Principal  of  the  Sorbonne,  Superior 
of  the  Asylum  for  the  Blind,  the  possessor  of  an 
income  of  from  seven  to  eight  hundred  thousand 
francs  from  the  revenues  of  the  Church,  a  member 
of  the  French  Academy,  a  man  of  the  highest 
fashion,  the  favorite  of  all  the  fine  ladies  of  the 
courts  of  Vienna  and  Versailles :  this  ambitious  man 
wanted  something  more.      What  he  asked  of  fate, 


THE  CARDINAL  BE  ROHAN.  67 

what  he  was  surprised  that  he  did  not  yet  possess, 
was  the  unlimited  power  and  rank  of  prime  minister, 
the  joy  of  seeing  all  his  rivals  at  his  feet. 

What  prevented  the  realization  of  this  vision  of 
pride  and  glory  ?  Only  one  person,  he  thought,  —  the 
Queen.  How  could  he,  so  glorious  and  fascinating, 
he,  the  Cardinal  Prince  of  Rohan,  not  succeed  in 
making  the  conquest  of  a  woman  ?  In  that,  he  said 
to  himself  in  his  fatuity,  there  was  something  really 
inexplicable.  He,  the  Prince  of  Rohan,  not  please 
the  Queen !  There  must  be  some  mistake.  Yet 
Marie  Antoinette  continued  to  maintain  her  icy  atti- 
tude. She  never  addressed  a  word  to  the  Grand 
Almoner  of  France.  The  Grand  Almoner  lamented 
it.  He  would  gladly  have  given  all  his  revenues 
from  the  Church  for  a  word,  for  a  smile.  This  dis- 
dain of  Marie  Antoinette's  was  the  torture,  the  de- 
spair of  the  Cardinal.  His  most  ardent  desire  was 
to  become  her  favorite ;  that  was  the  aim  to  wliich 
all  the  resources  of  his  mind  were  turned.  When  he 
was  seeking  with  a  feverish  anxiety  every  means  to 
obtain  the  good  graces  of  his  sovereign  and  to  reach 
the  summit  of  fortune,  of  greatness,  he  met  two  per- 
sons who,  he  thought,  could  be  of  the  greatest  service 
to  him  in  carrying  out  his  design  —  a  charlatan  and 
an  intriguing  woman,  Cagliostro  and  Madame  de  La 
Motte. 


VII. 


CAGLIOSTKO. 


WHEN  we  cease  to  study  history  superficially 
and  go  down  into  its  depths,  we  are  surprised 
at  the  supply  of  absurdities  which  every  period  adds 
to  the  mass  of  human  follies,  and  we  acquire  the  con- 
viction that  what  we  call  common  sense  ought  to  be 
called  the  uncommon  sense.  The  illogicality,  the 
'contradictions,  the  absurdities,  of  the  human  heart 
are  eternal  causes  of  surprise.  The  more  corrupt  the 
society,  the  more  easily  is  it  led  to  every  extravagance 
in  its  tastes  and  fashions. 

Superstition  and  incredulity  walk  hand  in  hand; 
men  refuse  to  believe  in  the  Gospel,  only  to  give 
their  faith  to  the  wildest  chimeras,  the  most  eccentric 
visions ;  they  call  themselves  hard-headed,  and  suffer 
from  every  weakness;  they  boast  that  they  are  fol- 
lowers of  reason,  and  they  are  in  fact  only  apostles  of 
madness ;  they  cease  to  believe  in  God,  but  they  still 
believe  in  the  devil.  Extremes  meet,  and  old  races 
have  all  the  credulity  of  children.  The  mania  for  the 
supernatural,  the  rage  for  the  marvellous,  prevailed 
in  the  last  years  of  the  eighteenth  century,  which  had 

68 


CAGLIOSTRO.  69 


wantonly  derided  every  sacred  thing.  Never  were 
the  Rosicrucians,  the  adepts,  sorcerers,  and  prophets 
so  numerous  and  so  respected.  Serious  and  educated 
men,  magistrates,  courtiers,  declared  themselves  eye- 
witnesses of  alleged  miracles.  "  I  have  a  theory," 
said  the  Prince  of  Ligne,  "  that  the  most  reasonable 
persons  have,  unknown  to  themselves,  a  romantic 
corner  in  their  life.  No  one  of  us  escapes  it;  it  is 
the  tribute  we  pay  to  the  imagination." 

When  Cagliostro  came  to  France,  he  found  the 
ground  prepared  for  his  magical  operations.  A  so- 
ciety eager  for  distractions  and  emotions,  indulgent 
to  every  form  of  extravagance,  necessarily  welcomed 
such  a  man  and  hailed  him  as  its  guide.  Whence 
did  he  come  ?  What  was  his  country,  his  age,  his 
origin?  Where  did  he  get  those  extraordinary  dia- 
monds which  adorned  his  dress,  the  gold  which  he 
squandered  so  freely  ?  It  Avas  all  a  myster}^  Like 
his  predecessor,  the  Count  of  Saint  Germain,  he 
pretended  to  be  more  than  three  hundred  years  old, 
while  he  seemed  to  be  about  thirty.  It  was,  he  said, 
because  he  possessed  the  secret  of  eternal  youth  and 
the  power  of  reawakening  love.  With  him  was  his 
young  wife,  a  beautiful  Neapolitan,  the  Flower  of 
Vesuvius,  as  she  was  called,  Serafina  Feliciani. 

So  far  as  was  known,  Cagliostro  had  no  resources, 
no  letter  of  credit,  and  yet  he  lived  in  luxury.  He 
treated  and  cured  the  poor  without  pay,  and  not 
satisfied  with  restoring  them  to  health,  he  made  them 
large   presents   of   money.      His   generosity   to    the 


70  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

poor,  his  scorn  for  the  great,  aroused  universal  en- 
thusiasm. The  Germans,  who  lived  on  legends, 
imagined  that  he  was  the  Wandering  Jew.  When 
he  first  set  foot  on  French  soil,  in  1780,  he  chose 
Strasburg  for  his  residence,  being  attracted  thither 
by  the  Cathedral  spire.  The  Cardinal  de  Rohan,  who 
was  then  living  in  his  splendid  castle  at  Saverne,  in 
more  than  princely  luxury,  was  extremely  anxious  to 
become  acquainted  with  the  famous  worker  of  won- 
ders. Cagliostro  did  not  make  the  first  steps :  "  If 
the  Cardinal  is  sick,"  he  said,  "  he  may  come  to  me, 
and  I  will  cure  him  ;  if  he  is  well,  he  has  no  need  for 
me,  nor  I  for  him."  This  charlatan,  who  gave  out 
that  he  had  discovered  the  philosopher's  stone,  un- 
derstood how  to  extract  inexhaustible  supplies  from 
the  devotion  of  his  adherents.  He  asked  for  nothing, 
and  received  everything  in  abundance.  They  gave 
everything  to  him,  under  the  impression  that  they 
were  enriching  themselves.  The  Egyptian  lodges 
which  he  founded  eveiywhere  he  went,  brought  him 
in  large  revenues.  He  exercised  a  real  fascination 
on  his  adepts. 

The  Baroness  of  Oberkirch,  who  saw  him  at  Sa- 
verne in  1780,  at  the  Cardinal's  palace,  has  described 
the  adoration  which  was  paid  him  :  "  No  one  can 
ever  form  the  faintest  idea  of  the  fervor  with  which 
everybody  pursued  Cagliostro.  He  was  surrounded, 
besieged;  every  one  trying  to  win  a  glance  or  a  word. 
...  A  dozen  ladies  of  rank  and  two  actresses  had 
followed  him,  in  order  to  continue  their  treatment. 


CAGLIOSTBO.  71 


•  •  •  If  I  had  not  seen  it,  I  should  never  have  im- 
agined that  a  prince  of  the  Roman  Church,  a  Rohan, 
a  man  in  other  respects  intelligent  and  honorable, 
could  so  far  let  himself  be  imposed  upon  as  to 
renounce  his  dignity,  his  free  will,  at  the  bidding  of 
a  sharper." 

One  day  Cagliostro  said  to  the  Cardinal,  "Your 
soul  is  worthy  of  mine,  and  you  deserve  to  be  the  con- 
fidant of  all  my  secrets."  For  his  part,  the  Cardinal 
was  never  weary  of  expatiating  on  the  merits  of  his 
new  friend.  He  showed  to  the  Baroness  of  Ober- 
kirch  a  large  stone  which  he  wore  on  his  little  finger, 
on  which  was  cut  the  coat-of-arms  of  the  house  of 
Rohan  ;  it  was  worth  twenty  thousand  francs  at  the 
lowest  calculation.  "It's  a  beautiful  stone.  Your 
Grace,"  said  the  Baroness ;  "  I  have  often  admired 
it."  "  Well,  he  made  it,"  the  Cardinal  went  on  ;  "  he 
made  it,  and  out  of  nothing  ;  I  saw  him  with  my 
own  eyes  ;  I  was  there  watching  the  crucible  ;  I  was 
present  at  the  operation.  Is  that  science  ?  What  do 
you  think  ?  You  mustn't  say  that  he  is  deceiving  me, 
for  the  jeweller  and  the  engraver  set  the  value  of  the 
stone  at  twenty-five  thousand  francs.  You  must  ac- 
knowledge that  it  is  a  singular  swindler  who  makes 
presents  like  that."  Then,  growing  more  excited, 
the  Cardinal  added  with  great  warmth  :  "  That's  not 
all ;  he  makes  gold ;  he  has  made  five  or  six  thousand 
francs'  worth  before  me,  up  there  in  the  top  of  the 
palace.  I  am  to  have  more ;  I  am  to  have  a  great 
deal ;  he  will  make  me  the  richest  prince  in  Europe. 


72  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


These  are  not  dreams,  Madame ;  they  are  proofs.  And 
his  prophecies  that  have  come  true  !  and  the  miracu- 
lous cures  he  has  wrought !  I  tell  you  he  is  the  most 
extraordinary,  the  sublimest  man  in  the  world,  and 
his  knowledge  is  equalled  only  by  his  kindness.  How 
much  he  gives  in  alms  !  How  much  good  he  does  I 
It  passes  all  imagination  !  " 

Cagliostro  did  not  content  himself  with  promising 
the  Cardinal  glory  and  power ;  he  also  cured  him  of 
an  asthma :  consequently  nothing  equalled  the  grati- 
tude of  this  prince  of  the  Church.  He  spoke  with 
affection  and  admiration  of  this  wonderful  man, 
whom  he  regarded  as  his  guide  and  saviour.  From 
that  moment  Cagliostro  was  free  to  help  himself  from 
the  purse  of  this  showy  and  generous  prelate.  Jan- 
uary 30,  1785,  he  took  up  his  quarters  in  Paris,  at 
the  Marais,  in  the  rue  Saint  Claude,  very  near  the 
Cardinal's  residence.  Paris  was  no  less  enthusiastic 
than  Strasburg.  With  his  half-philosophical,  half- 
mystical  jargon,  his  knowledge  of  physics,  chemistry, 
alchemy,  and  medicine ;  his  pretence  of  making  gold, 
of  having  lived  in  past  centuries,  of  foretelling  the 
future,  and  of  having  guessed  the  great  secrets  of 
creation,  Cagliostro  upset  and  fired  feeble  minds. 
His  glance,  at  one  moment  all  flame,  the  next  ice, 
fascinated  them.  To  the  sick  he  used  to  say,  "  I  will 
give  you  health " ;  to  the  poor,  "  I  mil  give  you 
wealth  "  ;  to  the  impotent,  "  I  will  give  you  love." 

Flattering  the  sensuality  of  the  age,  he  exalted  the 
natural  instincts  as  beneficent  emanations  granted  to 


CAGLIOSTEO.  73 


mortals  by  the  Supreme  Being,  as  a  recompense  for 
the  evils  inseparable  from  humanity.  He  taught  that 
the  religion  most  worthy  of  God  and  of  man  was  that 
of  the  patriarchs,  and  that  Adam,  Seth,  Enoch,  Noah, 
Abraham,  Isaac,  Jacob,  had  lived  in  close  intimacy 
with  their  Creator,  who  continually  manifested  him- 
self to  them.  He  added  that  he  was  the  possessor  of 
this  secret  of  the  patriarchs,  and  that,  like  them,  he 
was  in  direct  and  continual  communication  with  Him. 
Speaking  a  strange  gibberish,  which  was  neither 
French  nor  Italian,  with  which  he  mingled  a  jargon 
which  he  did  not  translate,  but  called  Arabic,  he 
used  to  recite  with  solemn  emphasis  the  most  absurd 
fables.  When  he  repeated  his  conversation  with  the 
angel  of  light  and  the  angel  of  darkness,  when  he 
spoke  of  the  great  secret  of  Memphis,  of  the  Hiero- 
phant,  of  the  giants,  the  enormous  animals,  of  a  city 
in  the  interior  of  Africa  ten  times  as  large  as  Paris, 
where  his  correspondents  lived,  he  found  a  number 
of  people  ready  to  listen  and  to  believe  him. 

In  his  medical  treatment,  his  three  great  panaceas 
were  baths  in  which  there  was  a  great  quantity  of  the 
extract  of  Saturn ;  a  potion,  of  which  the  receipt 
was  in  the  hands  only  of  an  apothecary  he  had 
chosen ;  and  some  drops  of  his  own  composition,  the 
miraculous  effects  of  which,  he  said,  would  cure 
all  the  diseases  which  physicians  had  pronounced 
hopeless. 

As  a  sorcerer  he  had  a  cabalistic  apparatus.  On  a 
table  with  a  black  cloth,  on  which  were  embroidered 


74  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

in  red  the  mysterious  signs  of  the  highest  degree 
of  the  Rosicrucians,  there  stood  the  emblems :  little 
Egyptian  figures,  old  vials  filled  with  lustral  waters, 
and  a  crucifix,  very  like,  though  not  the  same  as  the 
Christian's  cross ;  and  there  too  Cagliostro  placed  a 
glass  globe  full  of  clarified  water.  Before  the  globe 
he  used  to  place  a  kneeling  seer;  that  is  to  say,  a 
young  woman  who,  by  supernatural  powers,  should 
behold  the  scenes  which  were  believed  to  take  place 
in  water  within  the  magic  globe. 

Count  Beugnot,  who  gives  all  the  details  in  his 
Memoirs,  adds  that  for  the  proper  performance  of  the 
miracle,  the  seer  had  to  be  of  angelic  purity,  to  have 
been  born  under  a  certain  constellation,  to  have 
delicate  nerves,  great  sensitiveness,  and,  in  addition, 
blue  eyes.  When  she  had  knelt  down,  the  geniuses 
were  bidden  to  enter  the  globe.  The  water  became 
active  and  turbid.  The  seer  was  convulsed,  she 
ground  her  teeth,  and  exhibited  every  sign  of  ner- 
vous excitement.  At  last  she  saw  and  began  to 
speak.  What  was  taking  place  that  very  moment  at 
hundreds  of  miles  from  Paris,  in  Vienna  or  Saint 
Petersburg,  in  America  or  Pekin,  as  well  as  things 
which  were  going  to  occur  onl}^  some  weeks,  months, 
or  years  later,  she  declared  that  she  saw  distinctly  in 
the  globe.  The  operation  had  succeeded;  the  adepts 
were  transported  with  delight. 

"  It  would  be  hard,"  says  Count  Beugnot,  "  to  be- 
lieve that  such  scenes  could  have  place  in  France  at 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century ;  yet  they  aroused 


CAGLIOSTRO.  75 


great  interest  among  people  of  importance  in  the 
court  and  the  town.  The  Count  of  Estaing  allowed 
himself  to  be  led  away  by  these  follies,  and  became 
their  upholder.  The  Cardinal  de  Rohan  was  amazed 
at  the  power  these  prophecies  gave  him  over  his 
enemies,  and  he  let  it  be  known  that  the  Duke  of 
Chartres,  whose  court  had  decided  not  to  believe  in 
God,  was  ready  to  believe  in  Cagliostro ;  so  true  it 
is,  that  in  human  weakness  there  is  always  an  open- 
ing for  faith,  which  is  always  likely,  when  it  lacks 
proper  material,  to  tolerate  ridiculous  or  dangerous 
subjects." 

Cagliostro  was  certainl}^  one  of  the  main  causes  of 
the  misfortunes  of  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan.  Such  an 
oracle  was  sure  to  ruin  the  ambitious  prelate,  by  driv- 
ing him  to  delirium  through  fantastic  promises  of 
power,  wealth,  and  love.  When  the  fatal  business*; 
of  the  purchase  of  the  necklace  came  up,  Cagliostro, 
who  had  recently  come  to  Paris,  was  mysteriously 
consulted  in  the  very  drawing-room  of  the  Cardinal. 
The  Egyptian  invocations  took  place  in  the  light  of 
countless  candles.  The  prophet  ascended  the  tripod 
and  spoke.  The  matter,  he  declared,  was  worthy  of 
the  Prince ;  it  would  be  completely  successful ;  it 
would  put  the  last  touch  to  the  kindness  of  the 
Queen,  and  finally  hasten  the  day  when,  for  the  hap- 
piness of  France,  of  Europe,  of  humanity,  the  rare 
gifts  of  the  Cardinal  should  become  known.  Rohan 
hesitated  no  longer,  and  the  affair  of  the  necklace 
began. 


VIII. 

THE   COUNTESS   DE  LA  MOTTE. 

THE  Countess  de  La  Motte  was,  even  more  than 
Cagliostro,  the  evil  genius  of  the  Cardinal  de 
Rohan.  She  was  a  perfect  type  of  a  woman  of  no 
defined  position,  at  war,  from  her  birth,  with  the 
social  order,  all  the  laws  of  which  she  defied ;  she  was 
an  adventuress,  who  united  with  vicious  instincts  wild 
extravagance,  and  insatiable  vanity  with  the  haughti- 
ness of  a  princess,  the  cynicism  and  depravity  of  a 
courtesan.  Madame  de  La  Motte  was  one  of  those 
unhappy  natures  which  show  what  intelligence  is 
when  not  controlled  by  morality  and  common  sense. 
This  woman,  whose  ardent  imagination  had  a  de- 
moniac quality,  found  that  at  certain  limits  lying  is 
a  proof  of  ability ;  imposture,  of  courage  ;  swindling, 
of  talent.  She  appeared  on  the  scene  as  if  by  a 
mockery  of  fate,  and  she  it  was  who,  for  the  last 
time,  evoked  before  the  multitude  a  name  famous 
throughout  the  world.  The  blood  of  Henri  XL,  the 
lover  of  Diane  de  Poitiers,  flowed  in  her  veins. 
Strange  are  the  vicissitudes  of  destiny !  This  race 
of  the  Valois,  once  so  powerful,  was  represented  by 
76 


THE  COUNTESS  BE  LA   MOTTE.  77 

this  woman.  What  a  delight  for  the  secret  enemies 
of  the  throne  !  What  scandals  they  concocted !  The 
Valois  slandering  the  Bonrbons ;  the  two  families 
engaged  in  the  same  trial ;  the  adulteries  of  Henri  II. 
punished  in  his  illegitimate  progeny ;  what  an  irony 
of  fate  !  what  a  prologue  of  the  Revolution ! 

Jeanne  de  Saint-Remy  de  Valois,  Countess  de  La 
Motte,  was  born  at  Fontette  (Aube),  July  22,  1756. 
She  was  the  second  child  of  Jacques  de  Saint-Remy 
de  Valois,  and  descended  in  the  seventh  generation 
from  Henri  de  Saint-Remy,  son  of  Henri  II.,  King 
of  France,  and  of  Nicole  de  Savigny,  Lady  de  Saint- 
Remy,  de  Fontette,  du  Ch^telier,  and  de  Noez.  In 
spite  of  its  illustrious  origin,  this  family  had  long 
been  extremely  poor.  One  of  its  members  made 
answer  to  Louis  XIII.,  who  asked  him  what  he  was 
doing  at  his  estate,  "  Sire,  I  am  only  doing  what  I 
should  do."  Later  the  true  meaning  of  this  seem- 
ingly haughty  reply  came  out,  when  it  was  discov 
ered  that  this  descendant  of  the  Valois  was  making, 
on  his  estate,  counterfeit  money  wherewith  to  pay 
his  numerous  creditors. 

The  father  of  Madame  de  La  Motte  was  sunk  in 
the  deepest  misery.  He  had  married  the  daughter 
of  the  concierge  of  his  Fontette  house,  by  whom  he 
had  four  children,  one  son  and  three  daughters.  He 
died  in  a  hospital  in  1762.  A  charitable  lady,  the 
Marchioness  of  Boulainvilliers,  took  charge  of  the 
children,  sent  the  boy  to  a  naval  school,  and  the  girls 
to  a  boarding-school  at  Passy.     Their  genealogy  was 


78  MARIE  ANTOINETTE, 

verified  by  d'Hozier  in  1776,  and  the  King  allowed  to 
eacli  one  of  the  children  a  pension  of  eight  hundred 
francs.  But  a  young,  ambitious  girl,  fond  of  luxury 
and  dress,  could  not  live  on  any  such  sum  as  that. 
Jeanne  desired  to  make  her  fortune,  and  any  way 
w^as  good  for  her.  She  spent  a  year  at  Bar-sur-Aube, 
with  a  lady  named  Surmont,  and  then  married  a 
gentleman  as  poor  as  herself,  the  Count  de  La  Motte, 
a  gendarme  (at  that  time  the  gendarmes  were  the 
first  regiment  of  cavalry  ;  the  privates  who  belonged 
to  it  had  the  rank  of  officers  and  could  obtain  the 
cross  of  Saint  Louis). 

In  1782,  the  pair  came  to  Paris,  took  up  their  abode 
in  furnished  lodgings  in  the  rue  de  la  Verrerie,  where 
they  lived  in  great  poverty;  in  1783,  they  were 
compelled  to  deposit  their  furniture  with  a  Avig- 
maker,  through  fear  of  the  bailiff.  Early  in  1784, 
Madame  de  La  Motte  pledged  her  dresses  and  be- 
longings at  the  pawnbroker's.  She  was  reduced 
to  extreme  poverty  when  suddenly  a  change  came. 
All  at  once  this  woman  who  lived  on  charity  had 
abundance  of  money.  This  is  what  had  happened. 
Madame  de  La  Motte  had  had  an  audience  with  the 
Cardinal  de  Rohan,  and  had  besought  him  to  trans- 
mit a  petition  to  the  King.  The  Cardinal  thought 
his  suppliant  very  pretty,  and  became  interested  in 
her  fate.  He  was  still  more  surprised  when  he 
learned  in  what  want  the  court  left  the  descendants 
of  Kenri  11.  The  petitioner's  strongest  arguments 
were  her  trim  figure,  her  expressive  blue  eyes  beneath 


THE  COUNTESS  BE  LA   MOTTE.  79 

arching  black  eyebrows,  her  fine  teeth,  her  little 
foot,  her  aristocratic  hand,  her  marvellously  fair 
complexion. 

The  prelate  was  fascinated;  the  bold  adventuress 
saw  that  she  had  at  last  found  her  prey.  Living  in 
the  days  of  society  where  smooth  rascals  regarded  the 
most  detestable  villanies  as  excellent  plans,  she  had 
chosen  for  her  secretary,  or  rather  for  her  accomplice, 
an  old  fellow-soldier  of  her  husband  in  the  gen- 
darmerie, a  certain  R^taux  de  Villette,  who  then  Avas 
prowling  between  Paris  and  Versailles  with  no 
definite  means  of  subsistence.  This  supple  and 
insinuating  man,  who  at  any  rate  knew  enough  to 
turn  off  a  letter,  was  required  by  Madame  de  La 
Motte  for  the  correspondences  she  was  soon  to 
undertake. 

Her  plan  was  soon  made.  The  Cardinal  was  a 
libertine,  she  would  addi'ess  his  passions ;  he  was 
thoroughly  ambitious,  she  would  direct  that  feeling. 
The  prelate  had  confided  to  her  that  his  grief,  his 
torture,  what  poisoned  all  his  happiness,  was  being  in 
disgrace  with  Marie  Antoinette.  What  would  he 
not  be  willing  to  pay  any  one  who  would  bring  about 
a  reconciliation  with  the  Queen?  He  said  to  him- 
self that  if  he  should  become  the  favorite  of  Marie 
Antoinette,  he  would  thereby  be  the  absolute  master 
of  France,  the  Mazarin  of  a  new  Anne  of  Austria. 
This  thought  drove  him  almost  wild,  as  Madame  de 
La  Motte  saw,  and  she  at  once  devised  the  means  of 
ruining  him.     She  suddenly  pretended  that  her  lot 


80  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

had  changed,  that  fortune  was  smiling  on  her,  that 
she  had  had  many  audiences  with  the  Queen,  and 
that  Her  Majesty  had  conferred  many  benefits  on  her, 
had  made  her  a  confidante,  and  wrote  to  her  letters 
full  of  the  most  amiable  feeling. 

This  bold  adventuress  showed  these  pretended  let- 
ters, which  were  written  by  a  forger,  to  every  comer, 
and  offered  her  protection  to  her  credulous  victims. 
She  convinced  the  Cardinal  that  she  often  spoke  of 
him  to  the  Queen,  that  she  pleaded  his  cause  with  great 
skill,  and  that  gradually  she  was  bringing  him  to  a 
high  place  in  Her  Majesty's  favor.  "The  Queen," 
she  said  to  him,  "  has  commissioned  me  to  ask  you  to 
give  me  your  justification  in  writing."  The  prelate, 
full  of  hope  at  once,  composed  with  eagerness  the 
required  apology,  and  Madame  de  La  Motte  told  him 
that  this  memorial,  which  she  liad  herself  presented 
to  Marie  Antoinette,  had  done  wonders.  The  Queen, 
she  went  on,  asked  of  her  future  favorite  only  a  little 
patience  and  a  little  discretion;  but  the  day  was 
drawing  nigh  when  she  should  be  able  to  throw  aside 
the  mask  and  to  make  a  j)ublic  announcement  of  the 
high  positions  to  which  he  was  to  be  called.  Madame 
de  La  Motte  urged  the  prelate  to  notice  the  Queen  on 
such  or  such  a  day,  at  such  or  such  an  hour,  when  she 
should  be  entering  the  hall  of  the  CEil  de  Boeuf ;  Her 
Majesty  would  make  him  a  sign  with  her  head,  which 
would  confirm  his  hopes. 

The  Grand  Almoner,  full  of  delight,  noticed  in  fact 
that  the  Queen  had  moved  her  head,  which  was  not 


THE  COUNTESS  BE  LA  MOTTE.  81 


at  all  surprising;  and  lie  was  fatuous  enough  to 
imagine  that  this  movement  was  the  appointed  signal 
mentioned  by  Madame  de  La  Motte.  What  this 
adventuress  now  needed  for  the  further  carrying  out 
of  her  devilish  plot  was  a  few  sheets  of  gilt-edged 
letter  paper.  With  these,  aided  by  her  customary 
accomplice,  she  forged  a  series  of  letters  from  the 
Queen  to  the  Cardinal,  who  received  with  joy  these 
alleged  royal  letters,  and  wrote  answers  which  he 
thought  that  Madame  de  La  Motte  gave  to  the 
Queen.  All  this  was  in  the  months  of  May,  June, 
and  July,  1784.  ^Madame  de  La  Motte  had  a  banker 
in  the  Cardinal,  but  all  his  revenues  and  treasures 
were  scarcely  sufficient  to  pay  the  debt  of  his  grati- 
tude. Was  there  anything  too  fine  for  a  Valois,  for  a 
woman  who  reconciled  a  man  of  his  genius  with  his 
sovereign.  It  Avould  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that 
Madame  de  La  Motte's  luxury  began  only  after  the 
theft  of  the  necklace.  Nine  months  earlier,  she  was 
living  extravagantly,  thanks  to  two  gifts  of  sixty 
thousand  francs  each,  from  the  fund  of  the  Grand 
Almoner  and  to  a  sum  of  thirty  thousand  francs 
assigned  to  her  from  the  Cardinal's  private  purse. 

The  fraud  was  everywhere  triumphant,  and  yet 
Madame  de  La  Motte  was  uneasy.  Blind  as  he  was, 
might  not  the  Cardinal  sooner  or  later  discover  the 
truth?  Would  he  not  notice  the  irregular  and 
almost  inexplicable  contrast  between  the  more  than 
affectionate  tone  of  the  alleged  letters  of  the  Queen, 
and  the  cold,  reserved,  almost  icy  attitude  which  she 


82  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


maintained  in  public  before  the  man  who  already 
imagined  himself  her  favorite?  In  the  correspon- 
dence which  passed  through  the  hands  of  Madame 
de  La  Motte,  the  Cardinal  was  continually  begging 
for  an  audience,  which  was  always  promised  but 
never  granted ;  and  in  spite  of  his  blindness  might 
he  not  form  some  vague  suspicion?  This  danger 
had  to  be  met ;  it  was  necessary  to  find  something 
that  should  absolutely  corroborate  his  mistaken  views, 
and  make  him  sure  that  he  had  heard  with  his  own 
ears,  seen  with  his  own  eyes.  Hence  the  scene  in 
the  grove,  one  of  the  most  curious  incidents  of  this 
strange  and  eventful  drama. 

It  was  July,  1784.  The  first  performance  of  the 
"  Marriage  of  Figaro "  had  taken  place  on  the  27th 
of  the  previous  April.  The  final  scene,  the  nocturnal 
confusion  under  the  shadows  of  the  avenue  of  the 
chestnut-trees,  had  made  a  great  impression,  and  it 
was  possibly  the  sight  of  this  that  suggested  to 
Madame  de  La  Motte  the  first  idea  of  the  scene  in 
the  grove  at  Versailles.  Her  husband,  strolling  in 
the  garden  of  the  Palais  Royal,  had  met  a  woman 
who  in  face  and  figure  somewhat  resembled  the 
Queen.  The  likeness  struck  him,  and  he  mentioned 
it  to  his  wife,  who  bade  him  make  the  woman's  ac- 
quaintance. She  was  a  Miss  d'Oliva,  a  woman  of 
doubtful  repute,  who  occupied  a  small  apartment 
in  the  rue  du  Jour,  near  Saint  Eustache.  M.  de  La 
Motte  followed  her,  made  her  several  visits,  and  one 
evening  told  her  that  a  woman  of  quality,  a  countess, 


p 


THE  COUNTESS  BE  LA  MOTTE.  83 

who  had  often  heard  of  her,  would  be  brought  to  see 
her  the  next  day. 

This  was  done,  and  Madame  de  La  Motte  had  no  dif- 
ficulty in  cajoling  the  poor  girl.  She  showed  her  the 
pretended  letters  of  the  Queen ;  ''  You  see,"  she  said, 
*'I  am  in  Her  Majesty's  confidence.  She  has  just 
given  me  a  new  proof  of  it,  by  asking  me  to  find  some 
one  who  can  do  something  for  her  which  will  be  ex- 
plained at  the  proper  time.  I  come  to  propose  it  to 
you.  If  you  consent,  I  will  make  you  a  present  of 
fifteen  thousand  francs,  and  the  Queen  will  make  you 
an  even  larger  present.  I  can't  tell  you  now  who  I 
am,  but  you  shall  soon  know."  The  d'Oliva  was 
naturally  delighted  with  such  a  windfall,  and  accepted 
without  hesitation.  The  next  day  M.  de  La  Motte 
went  to  her  rooms  for  her,  in  the  afternoon,  and 
carried  her  with  him  to  Versailles,  to  the  H6tel  de 
la  Belle  Image,  Place  Dauphin.  The  next  day 
Madame  de  La  Motte  instructed  her  ignorant  accom- 
plice in  the  part  she  was  to  play.  She  began  by 
making  her  put  on  a  white  dress  trimmed  Avith  red, 
and  to  throw  over  her  head  a  thing  called  a  thSrese. 
Then  she  gave  her  the  necessary  directions  :  "  This 
evening  I  shall  take  you  to  the  park ;  a  great  noble- 
man will  come  up  to  you,  and  you  will  give  him  this 
letter,  and  this  rose,  saying  nothing  but  this,  '  You 
know  what  this  means ' ;  that  is  all  you  will  have  to 
do."  The  d'Oliva,  who  was  convinced  that  this 
little  scene  was  desired  by  the  Queen,  for  her  own 
amusement,  had  no  other  thought  than  to  play  her 
part  to  the  best  of  her  ability. 


84  MABIE  ANTOINETTE 

This  was  July  28,  1784.  The  Cardinal  had  re- 
ceived word  from  Madame  de  La  Motte,  to  be  that 
evening,  at  about  ten  o'clock,  in  the  Versailles  park, 
near  the  grove  of  Venus,  where  the  Queen  would 
at  last  grant  him  the  interview  he  had  so  long 
desired. 

It  was  a  very  dark  night ;  no  sound  disturbed  the 
mysterious  silence  of  the  park ;  the  Cardinal,  full  of 
hope,  his  imagination  aglow  with  Heaven  knows 
what  visions  of  pride  and  pleasure,  was  eagerly  await- 
ing the  pretended  rendezvous,  the  hour  of  triumph, 
the  blissful  moment,  when  the  royal  apparition  should 
appear  beneath  the  dark  trees.  Never  had  more  ro- 
mantic dreams  fired  a  man's  ardent  brain.  Suddenly 
the  Cardinal's  more  than  amorous  impatience  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  rustle  of  a  dress.  It  was,  he  thought, 
the  Queen  of  France  and  of  Navarre,  the  majestic, 
poetic,  enchanting  Marie  Antoinette,  the  first  woman 
of  the  world.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the  d'Oliva,  whom 
he  took  for  the  Queen,  he  bowed  low,  murmuring 
some  few  words.  The  d'Oliva  replied  by  offering 
him  a  rose,  and  saying  in  a  voice  broken  by  emotion, 
"  You  know  what  this  means."  Then  Madame  de  La 
Motte  appeared.  "  Come  quick,  quick  ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. Retaux  de  Villette  said,  as  if  in  alarm, 
''  Here  is  the  Countess  of  Artois  ! "  The  d'Oliva  dis- 
appeared like  a  shadow,  and  all  was  silent  again. 

The  Cardinal  thought  himself  the  happiest  man  in 
the  world.  Not  only,  he  imagined,  had  the  Queen 
pardoned  him,  but,  as  if  by  miracle,  she  had  passed 


THE  COUNTESS  BE  LA   MOTTE.  85 

from  hate  to  sympathy,  and  from  sympathy  to  love. 
In  proof  of  this  tender  feeling,  she  had  given  him  a 
rose :  a  mystic  gift  I  a  cherished  token !  This  rose 
he  covered  with  ardent  kisses ;  he  placed  it  with  de- 
votion on  his  heart.  He  fancied  himself  transported 
to  a  delightful  spot,  some  happy  Eden,  to  a  Avorld  of 
ineffable  bliss.  What  he  felt  w^as  no  longer  joy,  in- 
toxication, delirium ;  it  was  ecstas}^  The  mystifica- 
tion had  succeeded  even  beyond  Madame  de  La 
Motte's  hopes. 

The  next  day  the  d'Oliva  was  shown  an  alleged 
letter  from  the  Queen,  which  ran  thus :  ''  My  dear 
Countess,  I  am  delighted  with  the  woman  you  se- 
lected; ^he  played  her  part  to  perfection,  and  her 
future  is  assured." 

Some  time  later  Madame  de  La  Motte  gave  the 
Cardinal  forged  letters  of  the  Queen,  and  asked  him 
for  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs  in  behalf 
of  persons  in  whom  she  was  interested.  He  has- 
tened to  give  her  the  amount.  The  bold  adventuress 
betook  herself  to  Bar-sur-Aube  with  all  this  money, 
to  dazzle  the  eyes  of  her  old  friends.  Her  house 
was  filled  with  silverware,  fine  furniture,  china,  and 
jewels.  She  drove  with  four  horses.  In  playing  the 
princess,  she  was  always  accompanied  by  four  lackeys 
carrying  lighted  torches,  and  by  a  negro  all  covered 
with  silver.  There  could  be  no  better  preparation 
for  some  immense  fraud,  and  Madame  de  La  Motte 
thought  that  the  time  Avas  ripe  for  carrying  through 
the  swindle  of  the  necklace. 


IX. 

THE  NECKLACE. 

THE  famous  affair  of  the  necklace,  which  has 
been  the  subject  of  many  commentaries  and 
many  hot  discussions,  is  no  longer  obscure.  A  very 
careful  student,  M.  Emile  Compardon,  has  made  it 
perfectly  clear  in  a  work  which  is  corroborated  in 
everything  it  says  by  the  proceedings  which  took 
place  before  the  Parliament  of  Paris. 

"To  show  that  the  diamond  necklace,  purchased 
in  the  name  of  Marie  Antoinette,  but  without  her 
knowledge,  by  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan,  was  stolen, 
taken  apart,  and  sold  by  the  Count  and  Countess  de 
La  Motte-Valois ; 

"  To  prove  this  by  the  critical  examination  of  the 
proceedings  before  the  Parliament  of  Paris  in  this 
unhappy  matter ; 

"  To  purge  the  Queen  of  the  calumnies  of  her  con- 
temporaries, which  have  been  echoed  by  some  later 
historians,"  —  such  is  the  aim  which  M.  Compardon 
set  himself  in  writing  his  book,  Marie  Antoinette 
and  the  Case  of  the  Necklace.  He  has  fully  suc- 
ceeded in  his  intention ;    and  the   more   closely  the 


THE  NECKLACE.  87 


affair  is  studied,  the  juster  and  more  fitting  are  the 
historian's  conclusions. 

The  Abb^  Georgel,  Grand  Vicar  of  the  Cardinal 
de  Rohan,  and  the  author  of  the  curious  Memoirs 
already  mentioned,  mentions  at  the  end  of  his  ac- 
count the  four  points  below,  as  proved  at  the  trial :  — 

1.  The  Cardinal  had  been  convinced  that  he  was 
buying  the  necklace  for  the  Queen. 

2.  The  authorization,  signed  "Marie  Antoinette, 
of  France,"  was  really  written  by  Villette,  who  com- 
mitted this  forgery  at  the  instigation  of  Madame  de 
La  Motte. 

3.  The  necklace  was  delivered  to  this  lady. 

4.  Her  husband  carried  it,  taken  apart,  to  London, 
and  sold  the  most  valuable  of  the  jewels  for  his  own 
profit. 

Thanks  to  the  Memoirs  of  the  Abb^  Georgel,  of 
Madame  Campan,  of  the  Count  Beugnot ;  thanks 
to  the  examination  of  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan,  of 
Madame  de  La  Motte,  of  Cagliostro,  of  the  d'Oliva, 
of  Retaux  de  Villette,  and  to  M.  Compardon's  clear 
and  thorough  book,  all  doubts  are  scattered  and  the 
truth  is  brought  to  light. 

Let  us  begin  with  saying  where  it  was  that  the 
necklace,  which  was  destined  to  make  so  great  a 
scandal,  came  from.  The  crown-jewellers,  Boehmer 
and  Bassenge,  had  made  it  by  stringing  together  the 
most  valuable  diamonds  on  sale.  Unfortunately  for 
these  men,  diamonds  had  rather  gone  out  of  fashion 
in  the  French  court.     Li  that  period  of  eclogues  and 


88  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

idyls  which  was  the  prelude  to  such  horrible  tragedies, 
simplicity  was  all  the  rage.  Marie  Antoinette  used 
to  wear  a  dress  of  white  linen,  and  a  shepherdess's, 
preferring  natural  flowers  to  the  most  magnificent 
jewels.  Nevertheless,  the  jewellers  persuaded  the 
first  gentleman -in-waiting  to  show  the  necklace  to 
Louis  XVI.,  who  was  delighted  with  it,  and  had  it 
shown  to  Marie  Antoinette. 

The  Queen  thought  the  necklace  very  handsome, 
as,  in  fact,  it  was  ;  but  she  was  averse  to  having  any 
such  sum  spent  upon  her.  Michelet  says :  "  Royalty, 
as  a  religion,  as  a  permanent  miracle,  requii-es  glit- 
tering, dazzling  splendors.  The  strange  sparkles  of 
a  diamond  serve  as  a  fairy-like  mystery,  an  aureole." 
Such  was  not  Marie  Antoinette's  opinion.  She  said 
that  diamonds  were  worn  at  court  only  about  three 
or  four  times  a  year,  that  she  already  had  enough, 
and  that  the  money  which  the  necklace  would  cost 
had  better  be  spent  in  building  a  vessel  of  the  state, 
which  would  be  much  more  useful.  Boehmer,  one 
of  the  jewellers,  was  in  despair  at  this  refusal.  He 
obtained  an  audience  with  the  Queen,  and  told  her, 
in  great  distress,  that  he  should  be  ruined,  and  would 
drown  himself,  if  the  necklace  were  not  bought.  The 
Queen  said  to  him :  "  The  King  wanted  to  give  me 
the  necklace ;  I  declined  it ;  so  don't  speak  to  me 
about  it.  Try  to  take  it  apart,  and  to  sell  it  piece- 
meal ;  and  don't  drown  yourself." 

This  was  in  December,  1778.  The  Queen  had  just 
given  birth  to  her  first  child,  Madame  Royale  (later 


THE  NECKLACE.  89 


the  Duchess  of  Angouleme),  and  Boehmer  had  hoped 
that  the  Queen  would  be  glad  to  receive  the  necklace 
as  a  present  on  her  recovery.  The  unhappy  man's 
deception  was  cruel.  He  had  staked  all  his  fortune 
on  this  unrivalled  ornament,  and  the  idea  of  taking 
it  apart  shocked  equally  his  tastes  as  an  artist  and 
his  interests  as  a  tradesman.  He  visited  all  the  prin- 
cipal cities  of  Europe,  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  pur- 
chaser for  this  marvel,  but  everywhere  its  high  price 
—  one  million  six  hundred  thousand  francs  —  pre- 
vented his  selling  it. 

In  the  spring  of  1785  preparations  were  made  at 
Versailles  to  celebrate  the  baptism  of  the  Duke  of 
Angouleme,  the  son  of  the  Count  of  Artois.  On  this 
occasion  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette  presented 
the  little  prince  with  a  shoulder-knot,  buckles,  and  a 
sword  set  with  diamonds.  Boehmer,  as  crown-jeweller, 
was  to  supply  the  different  objects.  When  he  deliv- 
ered them  to  the  Queen,  he  handed  her  a  letter  which 
ran  thus :  "  Madame,  we  are  perfectly  happy  at  being 
allowed  to  think  that  the  last  arrangements  which 
have  been  proposed  to  us,  and  to  which  we  have  con- 
sented with  all  zeal  and  respect,  are  a  new  proof  of 
our  submission  and  our  devotion  to  Your  Majesty's 
orders,  and  we  take  the  profoundest  satisfaction  in 
thinking  that  the  most  sumptuous  array  of  diamonds 
in  the  world  will  belong  to  the  best  and  most  beauti- 
ful of  queens." 

Marie  Antoinette,  who  could  not  understand  this 
letter  in  the  least,  sent  some  one  to  recall  the  jeweller. 


90  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

that  lie  might  explain  it;  but  he  had  disappeared. 
The  Queen  then  said  that  the  letter  was  another 
proof  of  Boehmer's  addled  wits,  and,  wanting  to  seal 
some  letters,  she  burned  it  at  the  flame  of  a  candle 
at  her  side.  "There  is'no  need  to  keep  it,"  she  said 
to  Madame  Campan  ;  then  she  went  on ;  "  This  man 
always  has  a  bee  in  his  bonnet.  Be  sure  and  tell 
him,  the  first  time  you  see  him,  that  I  don't  care  for 
diamonds  any  more,  and  that  I  shall  never  buy  any 
more ;  that,  if  I  had  to  spend  any  money,  I  should 
much  prefer  enlarging  the  place  at  Saint  Cloud  by 
buying  some  of  the  land  adjoining  it.  Go  into  all 
these  details  with  him  to  convince  him  and  impress 
it  upon  him."  Madame  Campan  asked,  "  Does  Your 
Majesty  wish  me  to  have  him  come  to  see  me?" 
"No,"  answered  the  Queen;  "it  will  do  very  well 
the  first  time  you  see  him." 

A  few  days  later,  August  3, 1785,  Madame  Campan 
was  at  Crespy,  at  her  father-in-law's,  who  gave  a  din- 
ner-party every  Sunday.  Boehmer  used  to  come 
once  or  twice  every  Sunday,  and  he  happened  to  come 
on  that  day.  Madame  Campan  took  advantage  of 
the  opportunity  to  give  him  the  Queen's  message. 
The  jeweller  was  amazed.  "  There  is  some  mystery 
here,"  he  cried ;  "  I  beg  that  you  will  let  me  have  a 
talk  with  you,  to  explain  the  matter  to  you."  They 
had  their  talk  that  evening,  in  the  garden,  when  the 
other  guests  had  left  for  Paris.  The  strange  revela- 
tion filled  Madame  Campan  with  horror.  She  saw 
the  horrible  snare  set  for  the  Queen's  reputation,  and 


THE  NECKLACE.  91 


she  was  so  surprised  and  so  affected  that  it  began  to 
rain  and  to  thunder  without  her  noticing  it. 

Boehmer  was  not  mad :  like  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan, 
he  had  been  the  dupe  of  the  boldest  and  most  in- 
famous intrigue. 

What  had  happened  ?  At  the  end  of  the  previous 
year,  Madame  de  La  Motte,  who  was  always  on  the 
lookout  for  new  frauds,  had  seen  that  the  necklace 
might  be  the  occasion  of  an  unprecedented  swindle, 
and  her  fertile  imagination  had  been  turned  towards 
carrying  it  out. 

January  21,  1785,  she  had  told  Boehmer's  partner 
that  the  Queen  desired  to  purchase  the  necklace, 
which  she  had  long  wanted ;  but  that,  being  averse 
to  treating  directly  with  the  jewellers,  she  had  en- 
trusted the  matter  to  a  certain  great  nobleman. 
Madame  de  La  Motte  added  that  she  advised  them 
to  take  every  precaution  with  regard  to  this  eminent 
personage. 

This  eminent  personage  was  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan. 
What  had  the  bold  adventuress  done  ?  By  means  of 
a  steady  fire  of  forged  letters,  she  had  succeeded  in 
persuading  the  prelate  that  the  Queen  ardently  de- 
sired the  necklace,  and  that  since  she  wished  to  get 
possession  of  it  without  her  husband's  knowledge  and 
pay  for  it  in  instalments  out  of  the  money  she  might 
save  from  her  own  expenses,  she  gave  the  Grand  Al- 
moner a  special  proof  of  friendliness  by  entrusting 
the  purchase  to  him.  He  was  to  receive,  Madame  de 
La  Motte  added,  an  authorization  written  and  signed 


92  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

by  the  Queen,  and  he  would  have  to  arrange  with  the 
jewellers  for  the  terms  of  payment.  In  the  trans- 
action, which  was  to  be  concluded  by  the  Cardinal 
alone,  the  Queen  was  not  to  be  mentioned.  Was  not 
the  secret  authorization,  signed  by  the  Queen,  a  suf- 
ficient guarantee,  Madame  de  La  Motte  asked,  and 
did  not  the  Queen  thereby  give  the  Cardinal  a  token 
of  exceptional  confidence  ? 

The  prelate,  still  under  the  impression  of  the  scene 
in  the  garden,  did  not  hesitate  for  a  moment.  Be- 
sides, Cagliostro  had  declared  that  the  matter  was 
quite  worthy  of  the  Cardinal,  and  that  it  would  be 
the  prelude  to  a  whole  series  of  triumphs  in  different 
directions. 

January  29,  Boehmer  and  Bassenge  went  to  the 
Cardinal's  palace,  rue  Vieille  du  Temple,  and  signed 
a  paper  containing  the  conditions  of  the  sale.  The 
price  of  the  necklace  was  one  million  six  hundred 
thousand  francs,  payable  in  four  instalments,  at  inter- 
vals of  four  months. 

January  31,  Boehmer  and  Bassenge  returned  to  the 
Cardinal's  palace.  The  prelate  showed  them  the 
contract,  bearing  the  word  "  Approved,"  and  the  sig- 
nature "  Marie  Antoinette  de  France,"  both  the  handi- 
work of  Madame  de  La  Motte's  usual  forger.  The 
affair  was  concluded,  and  the  jewellers  departed  bliss- 
fully happy. 

The  next  day,  February  1,  the  Cardinal,  to  whom 
the  necklace  had  been  delivered,  went  to  Versailles, 
to  the  little  lodging  which  Madame  de  La  Motte  oc- 


THE  NECKLACE.  93 


cupied  in  the  Place  Dauphin ;  he  was  accompanied  by 
a  servant,  who  carried  the  necklace  in  its  case.  The 
Cardinal  had  just  handed  it  to  Madame  de  La  Motte, 
when  she  told  him  that  the  alleged  confidential  agent 
of  the  Queen  was  coming;  the  Cardinal  concealed 
himself  in  a  closet  with  a  glass  door,  and  saw  Madame 
de  La  Motte  hand  the  case  to  Marie  Antoinette's 
alleged  messenger.     The  fraud  was  accomplished. 

From  that  day  forth  the  de  La  Mottes  lived  in 
luxury,  satisfying  every  desire,  every  whim.  The 
golden  stream  was  never  dry.  The  source  of  their 
wealth  was  the  necklace.  This  marvellous  work  of 
art,  which  the  jewellers  were  surprised  to  observe 
that  the  Queen  never  wore,  had  been  taken  apart. 
Madame  de  La  Motte  kept  for  herself  the  small 
gems,  those  that  could  not  be  recognized,  and  the 
large  ones  she  had  sold  in  London.  Monsieur  Com- 
pardon  has  proved  these  sales  from  the  original  docu- 
ments ;  the  statements  of  the  English  jewellers  who 
bought  them  remove  every  doubt.  Besides,  can  it 
be  maintained  for  a  moment  that  if  the  Queen  had 
had  this  necklace  in  her  possession,  she  would  not 
have  worn  it? 

Madame  de  La  Motte  was  enraptured  with  the  suc- 
cess of  her  fraud,  and  plunged  into  ever  wilder  ex- 
travagance ;  but  the  hour  of  justice  was  approaching. 
Boehmer  had  learned  all  the  truth  from  Madame 
Campan.  He  went  straightway  to  Breteuil,  the  Min- 
ister, and  revealed  part  of  the  story,  mentioning  the 
Cardinal,  but  saying  nothing  about  Madame  de  La 


94  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

Motte.  August  17,  when  the  Queen  was  rehearsing 
the  part  of  Rosina  for  the  early  performance  of  the 
"  Barber  of  Seville,"  in  the  theatre  of  the  Little  Tri- 
anon, Madame  Campan  told  her  all  she  had  learned 
from  her  talk  with  Boehmer.  Marie  Antoinette  was 
filled  with  righteous  indignation.  "These  hideous 
vices,"  she  exclaimed,  "must  be  unmasked.  When 
the  Roman  purple  and  the  title  of  prince  conceal  only 
a  needy  man,  a  swindler,  who  dares  to  compromise  his 
sovereign's  wife,  all  France  and  Europe  must  know 
it."  August  9,  Boehmer  gave  the  Queen  a  written 
statement  of  the  affair.  August  15,  at  Versailles, 
in  the  Gallery  of  Mirrors,  at  the  moment  when  the 
Cardinal,  in  his  pontifical  robes,  was  about  to  go  to 
the  chapel,  he  was  arrested. 


THE   ARREST. 

AT  first  the  affair  of  the  necklace  seemed  to  be 
a  wholly  inexplicable  enigma.  The  imagina- 
tion of  a  dramatist  or  of  a  novelist  accustomed  to  the 
wildest  inventions  could  have  conceived  nothing 
stranger.  The  first  suggestion  was  that  the  Cardinal 
de  Rohan,  who,  in  spite  of  his  colossal  fortune  and 
enormous  revenues,  owed  many  millions,  had  appro- 
priated the  necklace  to  fill  his  purse,  and  to  make 
good  the  deficit  in  the  administration  of  the  Blind 
Asylum.  As  to  the  idea  that  a  prince  of  the  house 
of  Rohan,  a  former  ambassador,  a  cardinal,  a  grand 
almoner  of  France,  a  principal  of  the  Sorbonne,  a 
member  of  the  French  Academy,  an  educated  and 
intelligent  man,  could  for  more  than  a  year  have 
imagined  himself  the  confidential  agent,  the  favorite, 
of  a  queen  who  never  spoke  a  word  to  him,  it  never 
crossed  any  one's  mind.  It  was  inconceivable  that  a 
man  of  such  importance  could  have  been  the  victim 
of  such  a  stupid,  such  a  clumsy  fraud. 

More  than  one  historian  has  blamed  Marie  Antoi- 
nette for  not  having  suppressed  the  affair.     But  was 

95 


96  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

that  an  easy  thing  to  do?  The  Cardmal  was  still 
convinced  that  he  had  not  been  deceived,  that  the 
Queen's  letters  were  genuine ;  that  he  had  seen  the 
Queen  with  his  own  eyes  that  evening  in  the  garden, 
otherwise  would  he  have  consented  to  pay  the  one 
million  six  hundred  thousand  francs,  demanded  by 
Boehmer?  What  ]Dart,  in  that  case,  would  Marie 
Antoinette  have  played  in  the  eyes  of  her  jewellers 
and  their  numerous  confidants?  To  hush  up  the 
matter  would  have  been  equivalent  to  a  confession 
of  guilt  and  a  corroboration  of  the  supposition  that 
there  existed  a  shameful  intrigue  between  the  Queen 
of  France  and  a  licentious  prelate.  Marie  Antoi- 
nette's proud  and  loyal  nature  rejected  such  a  course 
with  dignity.  And  could  a  sense  of  religious  decorum 
allow  the  entrusting  of  such  a  cardinal  with  the 
functions  of  Grand  Almoner  ?  Could  he  continue  to 
officiate  at  great  ceremonies  in  this  Versailles  chapel, 
where  his  presence  would  be  an  insult  to  altar  and 
throne  ?  Should  such  a  priest  baptize  the  royal  chil- 
dren I  give  the  holy  communion  to  the  Very  Christian 
King  and  Queen,  and  have  charge  of  the  religious 
instruction  of  the  royal  family  and  the  court  ?  And 
how  could  he  be  disgraced  without  making  his  fault 
public,  without  throwing  a  full  light  on  the  blackness 
of  such  a  plot  ? 

The  Baron  de  Breteuil  and  the  Abbe  de  Vermond, 
who  were  enemies  of  the  Cardinal,  had  no  difficulty 
in  convincing  the  Queen  that  it  was  her  duty  once 
for  all  to  put  an  end  to  this  combination  of  secret 


THE  ARREST.  97 


calumny  and  hidden  intrigue,  an  invisible  but  deadly- 
network,  in  which  wretches  were  endeavoring  to 
envelop  her  reputation.  The  blood  of  Maria  Theresa^ 
flowed  in  the  veins  of  this  daughter  of  the  Csesars. 
She  had  a  feeling  of  indignation  and  wrath  which 
carried  away  the  most  good-natured  of  kings.  Made 
more  beautiful  by  her  tears  and  her  emotion,  Marie 
Antoinette,  calumniated  and  insulted,  as  Queen  and 
as  a  woman,  asked  justice  from  her  husband.  Were 
swindling,  infamous  forgers  to  be  allowed  with  ini- 
13unity  to  trifle  with  the  Royal  Majesty,  and  to  pol- 
lute the  most  august  names  with  their  scandals  and 
crimes  ?  It  was  in  vain  that  cautious  politicians,  like 
the  Count  of  Vergennes,  for  example,  tried  to  urge 
gentle  measures ;  the  Queen,  impatient  and  angered, 
with  the  exaltation  that  gives  to  innocence  the  feel- 
ing of  justice,  of  right,  of  honor,  wished  instantly 
to  have  truth  given  to  the  world. 

It  was  August  15,  1785,  Assumption  Day ;  already 
the  candles  had  been  lit  in  the  chapel  of  the  Ver- 
sailles palace ;  the  courtiers  were  waiting  in  the 
Gallery  of  the  Mirrors  for  the  King  and  Queen  to 
issue  from  their  apartments,  to  go  to  mass.  In  the 
midst  of  this  brilliant  throng  was  the  Cardinal  de 
Rohan,  who  was  about  to  officiate  in  his  capacity  of 
Grand  Almoner,  and  was  already  wearing  his  pon- 
tifical robes.  It  was  about  midday.  Suddenly  the 
Cardinal  was  summoned  to  the  King's  room.  Louis 
XVI.,  Marie  Antoinette,  the  Baron  de  Breteuil, 
Keeper  of  the  Seals  and  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs, 
were  all  there. 


98  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

The  King,  when  he  saw  the  Cardinal  approach 
him,  asked  him :  — 

"Have  you  bought  any  diamonds  of  Boehmer?" 

"Yes,  Sire." 

"  What  have  you  done  with  them  ?  " 

"I  thought  that  they  had  been  delivered  to  the 
Queen." 

"  Who  entrusted  this  business  to  you  ?  " 

"A  lady  named  the  Countess  de  La  Motte-Valois, 
who  gave  me  a  letter  from  the  Queen,  and  I  thought 
to  pay  my  court  to  the  Queen  by  taking  charge  of 
this  business." 

Then  Marie  Antoinette  broke  out :  — 

"  What,  sir,  could  you  think  that  I,  who  have  not 
spoken  to  you  for  eight  years,  could  have  chosen  you 
for  this  business,  and  through  a  woman  like  her  ?  " 

The  Cardinal  answered  :  — 

"I  see  that  I  have  been  cruelly  deceived;  I  will 
pay  for  the  necklace.  My  desire  to  please  Your 
Majesty  blinded  me  ;  I  did  not  detect  any  trickery, 
and  I  am  sorry  for  it." 

Then  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  notebook  whence 
he  took  out  the  alleged  letter  from  the  Queen  to 
Madame  de  La  Motte.  He  looked  at  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, fancying  that  he  was  about  to  crush  her.  But 
what  was  not  his  amazement  when  Louis  XVI.,  hav- 
ing glanced  at  the  letter,  said :  — 

"  That  is  not  the  Queen's  writing  or  the  Queen's 
signature.  How  could  a  prince  of  the  house  of 
Rohan,  a  Grand  Almoner,  have  imagined  that  the 


THE  ARREST.  99 


Queen  signed  '  Marie  Antoinette  of  France  '  ?  Every 
body  knows  that  queens  sign  only  with  their  baptis- 
mal names." 

This  remark  was  a  revelation  to  the  guilty  and 
unhappy  Cardinal.  He  was  already  turning  pale 
when  the  King  shoAved  him  a  copy  of  a  letter  he  had 
written  to  the  jeweller. 

''Sir,"  then  said  Louis  XVI.,  "have  you  written  a 
letter  like  this?" 

"  I  do  not  remember  writing  it." 

"  And  if  you  should  be  shown  the  original  signed 
by  you?" 

"  If  the  letter  has  my  signature,  it  is  genuine." 

"  Explain  this  whole  mystery ;  I  do  not  want  to  find 
you  guilt}^,  I  desire  your  justification.  Tell  me  what 
is  the  meaning  of  all  this  affair  with  Boehmer, — these 
promises  and  notes." 

The  Cardinal,  in  his  emotion,  could  scarcely  stand. 
Leaning,  to  support  himself,  against  a  table,  he  stam- 
mered, "Sire,  I  am  too  much  agitated  to  answer 
Your  Majesty  in  a  proper  —  " 

"  Control  yourself.  Cardinal,  and  go  into  my  study ; 
there  you  will  find  paper,  pens,  and  ink ;  put  down 
what  you  have  to  say  in  writing." 

The  Cardinal  went  into  the  King's  study  and 
dashed  off  a  few  lines. 

The  Queen  afterwards  stated  that  she  then  was 
seized  by  a  great  panic,  imagining  that  possibly  the 
Cardinal,  in  order  to  ruin  lier,  had  set  a  horrible 
snare.     Perhaps  he  was  going  to  maintain  that  she 


100  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

had  received  the  necklace  and  was  about  to  mention 
some  secret  spot  in  the  palace  where  some  accomplice 
had  concealed  it.  This  fear  was  groundless.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  Cardinal  came  back;  his  written 
defence  no  clearer,  no  more  satisfactory  than  had  been 
his  oral  explanations.  Then  Louis  XVI.  said  to  him, 
"  Withdraw,  sir." 

The  Cardinal  at  once  left  the  King's  room,  and 
re-entered  the  Gallery  of  the  Mirrors.  The  courtiers 
did  not  know  what  had  happened,  and  imagined  that 
he  was  going  to  the  chapel.  He  had  acquired  con- 
trol over  his  face  which  betrayed  no  agitation.  It  is 
easy  to  conceive  the  general  emotion  when  suddenly 
the  Baron  de  Breteuil  was  seen  to  turn  to  an  ensign 
of  the  body-guard  and  heard  to  say,  "Arrest  the 
Cardinal  de  Rohan."     It  was  like  a  thunderbolt. 

The  prelate  could  not  look  forward  without  terror 
to  the  fate  that  awaited  him  if  the  letters  which  he 
had  received  from  Madame  de  La  Motte  should  fall 
into  the  hands  of  justice.  These  letters  were  in 
Paris,  at  his  palace,  rue  Vieille  du  Temple,  iq,  a  little 
red  letter-case.  At  the  very  moment  of  the  catas- 
trophe he  showed  great  presence  of  mind.  The 
young  ensign  who  had  been  ordered  to  arrest  him, 
preserved  a  respectful  attitude.  The  Cardinal,  who 
had  just  left  the  Gallery  of  the  Mirrors,  saw  his  ser- 
vant at  the  door  of  the  drawing-room  of  Hercules, 
and  he  said  to  him  a  few  words  in  German.  Then 
he  asked  the  ensign  for  a  lead-pencil.  The  officer  at 
once  gave  him  one  which  he  had  in  his  pocket.     The 


THE  ABREST.  101 


Cardinal  wrote  a  few  lines  on  a  scrap  of  paper,  which 
he  gave  to  his  man.  A  moment  later  the  man 
mounted  his  horse  and  dashed  away  at  full  speed, 
reaching  the  palace  in  a  very  short  time ;  there  he 
burned  all  t*he  letters  in  the  red  portfolio.  Soon  the 
lieutenant  of  police  arrived,  but  it  was  too  late. 

Nevertheless,  the  Cardinal  was  locked  up  in  the 
Bastille,  where  he  was  received  by  the  governor,  one 
of  his  friends.  Louis  XVI.,  who  was  always  good- 
nature itself,  had  said,  speaking  of  the  new  prisoner, 
"I  do  not  wish  his  ruin,  but  in  his  own  interest  I 
must  make  sure  of  his  person."  At  the  Bastille,  the 
Cardinal  was  lodged  in  the  apartment  of  the  King's 
lieutenant.  He  was  at  liberty  to  see  his  counsel  and 
his  relatives,  and  whenever  he  desired,  to  walk  in  the 
governor's  garden.  He  had  two  valets  de  chambre 
at  his  orders.  According  to  the  Abbe  Georgel,  his 
table  was  served  as  became  his  birth  and  position. 
All  the  officials  were  eager  to  diminish  for  him  the 
discomforts  of  captivity ;  'but  his  heart,  tortured  more 
by  spite  than  by  remorse,  was  the  prey  of  the  liveliest 
fear  and  anguish. 

What  had  become  of  Madame  de  La  Motte  mean- 
while? August  17  she  was  supping  two  leagues 
from  Bar-sur-Aube,  in  the  famous  Abbey  of  Clairvaux, 
where  great  preparations  were  making  for  the  festival 
of  Saint  Bernard,  August  20.  This  year  it  was  the 
Abb^  Maury,  later  well  known  for  his  success  in  the 
tribune,  who  was  to  pronounce  the  panegyric  on  the 
saint.     At  that  time  the  superior  of  the  Abbey  was  a 


102  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

man  of  great  elegance,  Dom  Rocourt,  who  had  an 
income  of  three  or  four  hundred  thousand  francs  and 
never  travelled  except  in  a  carriage  with  four  horses, 
and  an  outrider  in  front.  Dom  Rocourt  knew  about 
the  relations  of  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan  with  Madame 
de  La  Motte ;  hence,  says  the  Count  Beugnot,  he 
treated  her  "  like  a  princess  of  the  Church." 

They  were  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  Abbe  Maury 
before  sitting  down  to  table.  Nine  o'clock  had  just 
struck,  but  he  had  not  come,  and  they  had  decided 
to  sup  without  him ;  but  hardly  had  they  taken  their 
places  when  the  sound  of  carriage  wheels  Avas  heaid. 
It  was  the  Abbe  Maury.  Dom  Rocourt  went  to  greet 
him  and  made  him  sit  down  at  table  at  once.  Then 
he  was  asked  what  was  the  news  in  Paris. 

"  The  news,"  he  answered,  "  you  ask  ?  There's 
a  piece  of  news  which  no  one  understands,  which 
puzzles  all  Paris.  The  Cardinal  de  Rohan  was  ar- 
rested last  Tuesday,  Assumption  Day,  in  his  pontifi- 
cal robes,  on  leaving  the  King's  study.  Does  any  one 
know  why?  No,  not  exactly.  Something  has  been 
said  about  a  diamond  necklace  which  he  was  to 
have  bought  for  the  Queen  and  did  not  buy.  It  is 
inconceivable  that  for  such  a  trifle  the  Grand  Al- 
moner of  France  should  have  been  arrested  in  his 
pontifical  robes,  —  you  understand,  in  his  pontifical 
robes,  —  on  leaving  the  King's  study." 

When  Madame  de  La  Motte  heard  the  Abb^  Maury, 
she  dropped  her  napkin  and  turned  pale.  She  loft, 
the  table,  ordered  a  carriage,  and  set  out  at  once  for 


THE  ARREST.  103 


her  house  at  Bar-sur-Aube.  That  night  she  burned  all 
the  letters  she  had  received  from  the  Cardinal.  The 
next  day,  the  18th,  she  was  arrested  at  five  in  the 
morning,  at  once  carried  to  Paris  and  imprisoned  in  the 
Bastille.  As  3^et  there  was  no  order  for  her  husband's 
arrest.  Five  days  later  he  was  sought,  l:>ut  he  had 
left  Bar-sur-Aube,  fleeing  to  England,  where  he  could 
not  be  arrested. 

R^taux  de  Villette  also  fled  to  foreign  parts,  going 
to  Geneva ;  but  he  was  rash  enough  to  walk  in  the 
neighborhood,  on  French  territory,  and  there  he  was 
arrested  and  locked  up  in  the  Bastille  with  the  rest. 

As  to  the  d'Oliva,  whose  presence  was  necessary 
for  the  examination,  she  sought  refuge  in  Brussels, 
but  the  Versailles  cabinet  soon  secured  her  extradi- 
tion. She,  too,  was  j)ut  in  the  Bastille,  which  held  all 
the  guilty  persons  except  M.  de  La  Motte.  The  trial 
could  begin. 


XI. 

THE   TRIAL. 

AN  incident  like  that  of  the  necklace  could  only 
happen  in  a  society  where  the  monarchical  prin- 
ciple had  lost  its  strength  and  glory.  It  has  been  said 
with  perfect  truth  that  the  very  fact  that  there  was  a 
trial  was  a  sign  of  the  times.  In  the  letters-patent 
of  September  5,  1785,  wherein  Louis  XVI.  informed 
the  Parliament  of  Paris  of  the  affair,  we  find  the 
Avords :  "  We  have  not  been  able  to  see  without  just 
indignation  that  an  august  name,  dear  to  us  in  many 
ways,  has  been  boldly  taken,  and  that  the  respect 
due  to  the  Royal  Majesty  has  been  violated  with  un- 
heard-of insolence."  Was  it  not  strange  that  the 
Parliament  should  be  called  on  to  investigate 
whether  the  statements  made  by  the  King  in  public 
letters  were  true  or  false?  How  could  the  magis- 
trates be  asked  to  pass  upon  the  King's  assertions  ? 
Either  there  should  have  been  no  letters-patent  of 
this  sort,  or  there  should  have  been  no  trial. 

Before  reaching  this  decision,  Louis  XVI.  had 
proposed  to  the  Cardinal  to  choose  between  casting 
himself  on  his  clemency  and  being  brought  before 

104 


THE   TRIAL.  105 


the  Parliament.  The  prelate  discussed  the  plan  he 
should  adopt  with  his  advocates,  Target,  Tronchet, 
Collet,  and  de  Bonni^res.  Tronchet  urged  appealing 
to  the  royal  clemency ;  Target,  on  the  other  hand, 
dissuaded  his  client  from  this  course.  This  difference 
reminds  us  that  one  day  Tronchet  was  boldly  to 
defend  Louis  XVI.,  while  Target  declined  this  noble 
duty.  .  Possibly  the  advocates  who  urged  a  trial  fan- 
cied that  the  Cardinal's  acquittal  would  be  a  blow  to 
the  Queen.  It  will  be  well  to  notice  the  conduct 
during  the  debates  before  the  Parliament  of  these 
men  who  formed,  as  it  were,  the  advance  line  of  the 
Revolution :  d'Espr^menil,  Fretteau,  Robert  de  Saint 
Vincent,  H^rault  de  S^chelles. 

At  first,  the  Cardinal  had  been  wholly  prostrated ; 
but  when  he  learned  that  his  correspondence  with 
Madame  de  La  Motte  —  those  absurd  letters  which 
would  have  overwhelmed  him  with  ridicule  and 
infamy  —  had  been  burned  ;  when  he  saw  the  incon- 
ceivable movement  of  public  opinion  in  his  favor, 
which  was  due  to  hatred  of  the  Queen ;  when  he 
perceived  the  energetic  measures  of  his  intelligent 
grand  vicar,  the  Abbe  Georgel,  —  he  became  more 
confident,  and  decided  not  to  appeal  to  the  royal 
clemency,  but  to  stand  trial.  Consequently,  he  wrote 
to  the  King :  "  Sire,  I  very  respectfully  thank  Your 
Majesty  for  the  alternative  offered  to  me ;  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  preferring  the  Parliament  as  the  surest 
means  of  unmasking  the  intrigue  of  which  I  am  the 
victim,  and  of  proving  my  good  faith  and  innocence." 


106  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

According  to  the  old  rules,  the  competent  tribunal 
would  have  been  an  ecclesiastical  court.  But  can 
one  imagine  a  council  of  bishops  passing  judgment 
on  a  necklace,-  deciding  a  gross  swindle,  and  pro- 
nouncing between  a  cardinal  and  a  woman  of  doubt- 
ful reputation  ?  Nevertheless,  when  the  Pope  learned 
that  a  prince  of  the  Church  was  submitting  himself 
to  lay  jurisdiction,  he  was  deeply  moved  by  this 
renunciation  of  ancient  privilege,  and  summoned  a 
consistory,  which  declared  unanimously  that  the 
Cardinal  de  Rohan  had  sinned  against  his  dignity  as 
a  member  of  the  Holy  College,  by  recognizing  the 
authority  of  the  Parliament,  that  he  was  suspended 
for  six  months,  and  that,  if  he  persisted,  his  name 
should  be  stricken  from  the  list  of  cardinals. 

But  the  prelate  had  taken  the  precaution  to  insert 
a  protest  against  lay  jurisdiction  in  a  petition  to  the 
Parliament.  A  doctor  of  the  Sorbonne  was  sent  to 
Rome,  to  carry  to  the  Pope  a  copy  of  this  document ; 
and  he  persuaded  his  Holiness  that  if  the  Cardinal 
had,  to  his  great  regret,  and  despite  his  formal  pro- 
test, accepted  the  jurisdiction  of  a  lay  tribunal,  it 
was  because  he  had  been  compelled  to  bow  before 
the  royal  authority.  The  Vatican  accepted  this  ex- 
planation, and  the  Prince  of  Rohan  was  restored  to 
his  rights  and  honors  as  Cardinal. 

The  Parliament,  then,  had  jurisdiction  in  this 
matter.  What  imprudence,  what  a  false  move  on 
the  part  of  the  government,  to  submit  a  case  like 
this  to  an  assembly  already  agitated  by  revolutionary 


THE   TRIAL.  107 


feelings,  to  an  ambitious  body,  full  of  rancor  against 
the  authority  of  the  crown  !  What  a  revenge  for  this 
Parliament  —  persecuted,  curbed,  exiled  by  Louis 
XV.  —  to  decide  on  the  fame  of  his  successor's  wife  1 
What  a  gratification  for  these  limbs  of  the  law  to 
have  to  judge  between  a  queen  and  a  prince  of  the 
Church !  With  what  rapture  these  gallant  magis- 
trates —  more  interested  in  Venus  than  in  Themis,  to 
use  the  language  of  that  time  —  would  enjoy  the 
importunities  and  solicitations  of  the  prettiest  women 
in  Paris,  of  the  great  ladies  related  or  connected  by 
interest  with  the  great  house  of  Rohan  ! 

The  revolutionary  feeling  was  not  mistaken;  the 
affair  was  a  huge  scandal,  and  a  possibly  irreparable 
onslaught  against  the  principle  of  authority.  Conser 
quently,  public  opinion  was  aroused  about  this  drama 
which  suited  so  well  the  tastes  and  instincts  of  the 
time.  All  classes  of  society  were  interested.  The 
nobility  could  not  comprehend  that  a  Rohan,  inno- 
cent or  guilty,  should  be  accused.  All  the  ecclesias- 
tics, from  the  humblest  abbd  to  the  archbishops  and 
cardinals,  refused  to  admit  that  a  prince  of  the 
Church  could  be  submitted  to  secular  jurisdiction. 
The  philosophers  delighted  to  see  a  queen  contest- 
ing with  a  cardinal.  The  magistrates  were  puffed  up 
with  their  own  importance ;  the  advocates  were  de- 
lighted to  publish  papers  which  were  printed  in  vast 
numbers  and  made  the  reputation  of  their  authors. 
The  idlers  and  the  gossips  —  and  Heaven  knows  if 
there  is  any  lack  of  them  in  a  city  like  Paris  —  were 

SITY 


108  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

amused  beyond  measure  at  this  legal  entertainment 
which  fed  the  public  curiosity  and  love  of  scandal. 
For  nine  months  this  strange  affair  of  the  necklace 
was  the  subject  of  perpetual  discussion  in  the  court 
and  the  city.  The  suburbs,  too,  took  part,  and  dema- 
gogues yet  unknown  gave  lessons  in  hatred  and  con- 
tempt. 

Curiously  enough,  the  scandals  in  the  life  of  the 
Cardinal  de  Rohan  seemed  perfectly  natural  to  his 
contemporaries.  He  was  looked  upon  as  a  gentle- 
man of  distinguished  gallantry.  His  appointment  to 
the  post  of  Grand  Almoner  of  France  seemed  most 
natural  and  appropriate.  This  society,  with  all  its 
democratic  tendencies,  was  still  infatuated  with  titles 
and  coat-of-arms.  The  Cardinal  was  admired  for  his 
extravagance,  his  noble  bearing,  his  grand  air.  It 
never  occurred  to  any  one  to  blame  him  for  having 
contributed  to  Madame  de  La  Motto's  support  out  of 
his  revenues  as  Grand  Almoner.  No  one  blamed  him 
for  consorting  with  charlatans,  swindlers,  and  demi- 
reps. These  things  did  not  prevent  his  being  looked 
on  as  a  virtuous  and  sensible  man,  to  use  the  lan- 
guage of  that  time.  Every  one  sympathized  with 
him ;  it  was  the  fashion  in  high  society  to  wear  red 
and  yellow  ribbons,  the  color  of  "  the  Cardinal  on  the 
straw." 

There  were  people  ready  to  condemn  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, who  believed,  or  pretended  to  believe,  that 
after  obstinately  refusing  the  necklace  when  her  hus- 
band offered  it  to  her,  she  had  had  it  given  to  her  by 


TBE  TBIAL.  109 


Madame  de  La  Motte  and  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan ; 
that  she  had  arranged  the  whole  matter  as  a  snare 
for  the  Cardinal,  whose  lack  of  favor  was  notorious. 
There  were  people  credulous  or  malicious  enough  to 
maintain  that  the  Queen  of  France  could  be  seduced 
by  a  gift  of  jewelry,  and  that  she  gave  assignations 
at  night  in  the  park  of  Versailles.  To  whom?  To  the 
Grand  Almoner,  a  priest  fifty  years  old.  But  calumny 
halts  at  nothing ;  hate  never  reasons ;  when  men's 
fancies  are  so  foul  and  such  gross  fables  find  cur- 
rency, we  may  be  sure  that  the  Revolution  was  not 
far  off. 

The  affair  of  the  necklace,  serious  and  fatal  as  it 
was,  was  yet  treated  almost  derisively.  One  might 
have  said  that  the  only  desire  of  the  advocates  was 
to  distract  and  amuse  the  public ;  they  indulged  in 
the  most  grotesque  extravagances.  Maitre  Doitot, 
Madame  de  La  Motte's  advocate,  led  off  with  a  pam- 
phlet, "the  wildest  that  ever  fell  from  a  lawyer's 
pen ;  it  was  no  less  successful  because  it  was  the 
preface  of  the  thousand  and  one  nights  and  it  was  the 
work  of  an  old  fellow  of  seventy,"  (Memoirs  of  the 
Count  of  Beugnot).  The  memorial  drawn  up  for 
Cagliostro  by  Maitre  Thilorier  was  even  more  suc- 
cessful. The  house  of  this  famous  worker  of  won- 
ders was  besieged  by  a  multitude  eager  to  buy  this 
singular  production,  and  it  was  necessary  to  post 
guards  at  the  door.  Maitre  Thilorier  spoke  about  the 
subterraneous  galleries  of  Memphis,  whence  his  hero 
had  issued ;  of  the  labyrinth  of  the  Pyramids,  where  he 


110  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


had  been  brought  up;  of  his  career  of  mysteries  and 
miracles.  The  advocate,  who  was  an  intelligent  man, 
was  the  first  to  laugh  at  this  ridiculous  story ;  but  the 
public  deemed  it  just  and  proper. 

Maitre  Polverit  had  charge  of  the  defence  of  Cag- 
liostro's  wife,  Serafina  Feliciani.  In  his  memorial,  a 
masterpiece  of  bombast,  he  said  of  his  client:  "En- 
dowed with  a  beauty  such  as  no  other  woman  possesses, 
she  is  not  a  model  of  tenderness,  gentleness,  and  res- 
ignation ;  no,  for  she  does  not  even  suspect  the  ex- 
istence of  the  opposite  faults :  her  character  offers  to 
us  poor  human  beings  the  ideal  of  a  perfection  which 
we  may  adore,  but  which  we  cannot  comprehend." 
As  to  the  memorial  drawn  up  in  the  name  of  the 
d'Oliva,  "  it  touched  every  tender  heart,"  says  the 
Abb^  Georgel,  "by  the  frankness  of  her  confessions. 
Its  style  had  the  fresh  coloring  which  poets  attribute 
to  the  Queen  of  Cnidius  and  Paphos."  What  made 
the  young  woman  still  more  interesting  was,  that 
she  gave  birth  to  a  child  in  the  Bastille,  which  she 
nursed  herself. 

Meanwhile,  the  Abbd  Georgel  was  preparing  his 
patron's  defence  with  equal  zeal  and  intelligence. 
He  gave  directions  to  the  lawyers,  brought  influence 
to  bear  on  the  judges,  set  every  secret  spring  in 
motion.  Every  day  he  wore  out  six  horses  in  hurry- 
ing from  one  place  to  another.  He  slept  every  night 
only  three  or  four  hours.  With  the  aid  of  two  secre- 
taries, he  managed  everything,  took  charge  of  the 
Cardinal's  affairs,  bringing  them  into  order,  reducing 


THE  TRIAL.  Ill 


his  extravagant  expenditures  in  his  palace  at  Saverne 
and  in  his  mansion  at  Paris,  satisfying  Boehmer  and 
Bassenge,  and  securing  their  payment  by  means  of 
instalments  from  the  revenues  of  the  Abbey  of  Saint 
Waast. 

The  Abb^  Georgel  as  Grand  Yicar  especially  ex- 
ulted in  his  power  of  giving  spiritual  comfort.  In 
one  of  his  epistles,  Saint  Paul,  who  was  in  captivity, 
exhorts  his  disciple,  Saint  Timothy,  not  to  be  ashamed 
of  his  prison  and  to  give  in  his  name  the  bread  of  the 
word  to  the  faithful.  The  Abb^  Georgel,  in  the 
absence  of  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan,  having  to  prepare 
the  charge  for  Lent  in  1786,  judged  it  necessary  to 
begin  with  quoting  from  this  epistle.  ''The  charge 
which  was  very  successful,"  said  the  Grand  Vicar, 
"  was  nothing  but  a  happy  combination  of  texts  from 
Holy  Writ,  arranged  to  suit  the  circumstances."  It 
was  posted  on  the  doors  and  sacristies  of  the  chapel 
in  the  palace  at  Versailles,  of  the  Blind  Asylum,  and 
of  the  Convent  of  the  Nuns  of  the  Assumption  in 
Paris ;  but  this  was  regarded  as  an  improper  proceed- 
ing. Louis  XVI.  was  assured  that  by  comparing 
the  prisoner  of  the  Bastille  to  Saint  Paul,  the  Abbd 
Georgel  implied  a  comparison  between  his  King  and 
Nero,  and  the  over-zealous  Grand  Vicar  was  sent  to 
exile  in  the  provinces. 

The  examination  advanced  slowly,  and  the  public 
awaited  the  results  with  eager  curiosity.  The  Prince 
of  Cond^,  who  had  married  a  princess  of  the  house  of 
Rohan,  the  Marshal  of  Soubise  and  the  Countess  of 


112  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

Marsan,  who  botli  belonged  to  this  family,  spared  no 
pains  to  save  the  Cardinal. 

M.  Pierre  de  Laurencel,  the  substitute  of  the 
Attorney-General,  sent  to  the  Queen  a  list  of  names 
of  members  of  the  High  Court  of  Justice,  Avith  a 
statement  of  the  means  employed  by  the  Cardinal's 
friends  to  secure  their  votes  in  the  trial.  "I  had 
charge  of  this  list,"  says  Madame  Campan,  "among 
the  papers  which  the  Queen  entrusted  to  my  father- 
in-law.  I  have  burned  it,  but  I  remember  that 
many  women  figured  in  it  in  a  way  that  cast  no 
credit  on  their  morals.  It  was  by  them,  and  by 
the  large  sums  of  money  which  they  had  received, 
that  the  oldest  and  most  venerable  persons  were 
bribed." 

Still  light  gradually  broke,  and  the  perfect  inno- 
cence of  the  Queen  began  to  appear  indisputable. 
Could  the  most  prejudiced  imagine  for  a  moment  that 
Marie  Antoinette  would  have  wished  to  buy  secretly 
a  necklace  which  could  only  have  been  agreeable  to 
her  if  she  wore  it?  And  even  supposing,  against 
every  probability,  that  she  desired  this  jewel  merely 
to  lock  it  up  among  her  jewels,  was  it  possible  to 
believe  that  she  would  have  chosen  to  make  the  pur- 
chase, a  bishop,  the  Grand  Almoner,  a  man  extremely 
distasteful  to  her,  to  whom  she  had  not  spoken  for 
eight  years  ?  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  proved  that 
she  had  never  had^the  slightest  relations  with  Madame 
de  La  Motte,  and  R^taux  de  Villette  confessed  that 
he  had  written  with  his  own  hand  on  the  contract 


THE  TRIAL,  113 


i 


between  the  Cardinal  and  the  jewellers,  the  words : 
"Approved.     Marie  Antoinette  de  France." 

With  equal  frankness,  the  d'Oliva  disclosed  the 
part  she  had  played  in  the  scene  in  the  park.  Finally, 
the  Cardinal  himself  declared  that  he  had  been 
deceived,  and  reproached  Madame  de  La  Motte  with 
all  impostures  of  which  she  had  been  guilty.  Her 
line  of  defence  was  inadmissible.  "  It  is  the  Cardinal 
who  stole  the  necklace,"  she  said ;  "  it  was  in  accord- 
ance with  his  orders  that  my  husband  and  I  had  the 
diamonds  separated  and  sold.  The  luxury  with  which 
I  am  reproached  and  which  is  alleged  to  have  come 
from  the  sale  of  the  necklace  is  really  the  result  of 
the  benefits  bestowed  on  me  by  my  friends,  and 
especially  by  the  Cardinal." 

No,  the  Prince  de  Rohan,  the  Grand  Almoner  of 
France,  was  not  a  rogue  or  a  thief ;  he  was  a  man  of 
wild  ambitions,  a  coxcomb  deluded  by  an  adventuress 
of  rare  audacity,  skill,  and  charm.  The  enigma  was 
made  clear;  the  Cardinal  had  been  the  dupe  of  a 
huge  deception.  But  one  very  serious  fact  remained 
equally  clear :  that  the  prelate  had  entered  into  rela- 
tions with  a  worthless  woman  to  buy  a  necklace  for 
the  Queen,  against  the  King's  wishes,  and  that  his 
intrigues,  his  hopes,  the  part  he  played  in  the  scene 
in  the  garden,  were  so  many  insults  to  the  Queen's 
honor,  to  the  royal  dignity.  "  That  was  the  crime," 
said  Count  Beugnot,  '*tlie  crime  for  which  respect 
for  religion,  for  the  Royal  Majesty,  and  for  morality, 
all  of  which  had  been  outraged,  demanded  punish- 


114  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

ment."  The  trial  lasted  nine  months,  amid  an  excite- 
ment which  grew  from  day  to  day;  never  had  the 
public  curiosity  been  so  thoroughly  aroused  as  on 
the  day  when  the  Parliament  was  to  render  the  long- 
expected  verdict. 


XII. 

THE  VERDICT. 

ALL  Paris  was  in  expectation,  May  29,  1786, 
when  the  assembled  Parliament  was  at  last 
about  to  render  its  judgment.  In  the  night  between 
the  29th  and  the  30th,  the  prisoners  were  transferred 
from  the  Bastille  to  the  Concierge rie.  Who  would 
have  said  that  the  moment  when  the  illegitimate  de- 
scendant of  the  Valois  was  entering  this  fatal  place, 
that  seven  years  later,  the  legitimate  daughter  of  the 
German  Csesars,  the  Queen  of  France  and  Navarre, 
would  also  cross  the  threshold  of  this  prison  ? 

May  30,  the  Parliament  opened  its  morning  sitting, 
and  the  persons  accused  were  introduced  in  turn. 
The  first  to  appear  was  Madame  de  La  Motte,  who 
could  not  restrain  a  movement  of  horror  on  seeing 
the  final  preparations.  Then  she  cast  a  bold  glance 
upon  the  judges,  and  persisting  in  her  plan  of  de- 
fence, she  denied  everything. 

Then  came  the  Cardinal's  turn.  The  President, 
d'Aligre,  had  the  stool  of  repentance  removed.  The 
Grand  Almoner  wore  a  long  violet  robe,  the  mourn- 
ing dress  of  cardinals.     His  stockings  and  his   cap 

115 


116  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

were  red.  He  wore  his  orders  crosswise  around  his 
neck.  Pale  and  serious,  he  entered  with  an  air  of 
dignity  and  sadness  which  impressed  the  judges,  who 
were  already  well  disposed  towards  him.  Thrice  the 
First  President  invited  him  most  politely  to  be 
seated,  and  those  of  the  judges  who  questioned  him 
expressed  marked  sympathy  and  deference.  When 
he  said,  "I  was  completely  blinded  by  my  intense 
desire  to  regain  the  Queen's  good  graces,"  every  face 
showed  thorough  approval.  When  he  had  finished 
speaking,  he  arose  and  saluted  the  court  as  he  with- 
drew.    They  all  arose  and  returned  his  salute. 

The  deliberation  was  long  and  stormy.  The  judges 
were  divided  into  two  hostile  camps :  the  defenders 
of  the  Queen,  and  her  enemies.  Her  defenders 
wished  some  stigma  to  be  placed  upon  the  man  who 
had  dared  to  insult  the  Royal  Majesty:  the  others 
had  a  very  different  aim ;  they  demanded  an  acquittal, 
pure  and  simple,  for  the  Cardinal,  and  thus,  implicitly, 
a  condemnation  of  Marie  Antoinette. 

The  Attorney-General,  Joly  de  Fleury,  demanded 
the  following  verdict,  so  far  as  the  Cardinal  was 
concerned :  — 

"Louis  Ren^  Edouard  de  Rohan  is  compelled  to 
declare  in  court,  in  the  presence  of  the  Attorney- 
General,  the  High  Court  of  Justice  assembled,  that 
it  is  without  reason  that  he  permitted  himself  to 
believe  in  a  false  and  imaginary  nocturnal  interview 
on  the  terrace  of  Versailles ; 

"  That  it  is  rashly,  ignorantly,  and  without  assur- 


THE   VERDICT.  117 


ance  of  the  wishes  of  the  King  and  the  Queen,  that 
he  undertook  and  carried  on  negotiations  with  Boeh- 
mer  and  Bassenge  concerning  the  purchase  of  the 
diamond  necklace ; 

"  That,  after  the  necklace  was  given  to  him,  he,  by 
false  and  fabricated  assertions,  continued  to  encour- 
age the  aforesaid  Boehmer  and  Bassenge  in  the  belief 
of  the  genuineness  of  the  purchase,  and  that,  by  his 
own  confession,  even  after  being  convinced  by  exam- 
ination that  the  '  approved '  and  the  signature  were 
false,  he  has,  by  continued  misuse  of  the  Queen's 
name,  made  to  the  aforesaid  Boehmer  and  Bassenge, 
a  payment  of  thirty  thousand  francs,  of  which  he  has 
taken  a  receipt  in  the  Queen's  name ; 

**  That  he  repent  and  ask  pardon  of  the  King  and 
Queen  for  having  had  the  temerity  to  lack  the  respect 
due  to  their  sacred  persons ; 

"  It  is  required  that  it  be  forbidden  to  the  afore- 
said de  Rohan  to  approach  the  Royal  palaces  and  all 
other  places  where  the  King  and  Queen  may  reside, 
until  it  shall  please  the  King  to  order  otherwise ; 

"  It  is  ordered  that  in  the  term  to  be  fixed  by  the 
court,  the  aforesaid  de  Rohan  shall  be  compelled  to 
resign  the  post  and  honor  of  Grand  Almoner  of 
France,  with  which  the  King  has  honored  him ; 

"  The  aforesaid  de  Rohan  is  condemned  to  the  pay- 
ment of  such  sums  to  be  bestowed  in  charity  as  shall 
please  the  court ; 

"It  is  ordered  that  the  aforesaid  de  Rohan  shall 
remain  in  prison   until   he   shall   have    obeyed  and 


118  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

satisfied  the  judgment  which  shall  have  been  ren- 
dered." 

This  verdict  would  have  been  an  act  of  respect  for 
the  Queen ;  but  they  were  very  far  from  being  satis- 
factory to  the  princes  and  princesses  of  the  house  of 
Cond^,  with  which  the  Cardinal  was  connected,  or  to 
the  families  of  Rohan,  Soubise,  and  Guemen^e,  the 
members  of  which  had  put  on  mourning,  and  in  this 
gloomy  attire  lined  the  passages  through  which  the 
members  of  the  High  Coui't  had  to  pass.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  revolutionary  spirit  desired  simply 
to  wound  and  distress  the  Queen.  Fifteen  judges 
adopted  purely  and  simply  the  verdict  of  the  Attor- 
ney-General ;  eight  others  favored  the  gentler  opinion 
of  the  President  d'Ormesson,  who  desired  that  the 
Cardinal  should  make  full  amends,  but  should  keep 
his  functions  and  honors.  It  may  be  truly  said  that 
this  last  opinion  was  moderation  itself,  yet  to  the 
enemies  of  Marie  Antoinette  it  appeared  too  severe. 
Robert  de  Saint  Vincent  made  a  speech  in  which  he 
condemned  the  publicity  given  to  the  trial,  and 
denounced  the  King  and  Queen  for  not  having  a  min- 
ister wise  enough  to  save  them  from  thus  compro- 
mising the  majesty  of  the  throne.  Finally,  after 
deliberating  eighteen  hours,  the  Cardinal's  friends 
carried  the  day  by  a  majority  of  three. 

May  31,  1786,  at  nine  in  the  evening,  the  Parlia- 
ment pronounced  its  judgment.  The  Cardinal  and 
Cagliostro  were  acquitted  purely  and  simply ;  M.  de 
La  Motte  was  condemned  in  default  to  the  galleys 


THE   VERDICT.  119 


for  life,  and  Rdtaux  de  Villette  to  banishment.  In  the 
same  judgment  the  Parliament  condemned  Madame 
de  La  Motte  "to  be  beaten,  naked,  with  a  rope 
round  her  neck ;  and  to  be  branded  with  the  letter  V 
(yoleuse)  on  the  two  shoulders  by  the  public  execu- 
tioner ;  this  done,  to  be  carried  to  the  House  of  Cor- 
rection of  the  Salpetriere,  where  she  is  to  be  detained 
and  imprisoned  for  life."  As  for  the  d'Oliva,  she  was 
simply  acquitted.  The  judgment  furthermore  de- 
clared that  the  word,  "  Approved,"  and  the  signature, 
"Marie  Antoinette  de  France,"  falsely  ascribed  to 
the  Queen,  had  been  fraudulently  placed  on  the  mar- 
gin of  the  writing  entitled :  "  Propositions  and  Condi- 
tions concerninig  the  Price  and  Mode  of  Payment  of 
the  Necklace." 

There  was  not  in  the  whole  judgment  a  single 
word  condemning  the  Cardinal ;  and  no  mention  was 
made  of  his  relations  with  Madame  de  La  Motte  or 
of  the  scene  in  the  park.  Count  Beugnot  says  very 
justly  in  his  Memoirs :  "  Even  now,  when  the  Revo- 
lution has  only  too  far  weakened  the  feeling  of  re- 
spect for  the  Royal  Family,  even  now,  who  can  imagine 
that  the  Parliament  looked  upon  the  scene  in  the 
garden  of  Versailles  merely  as  a  swindle  and  the 
participants  as  merely  swindlers  and  their  victim? 
The  Revolution  was  already  complete  in  the  minds 
of  those  who  could  consider  such  an  insult  to  the 
King,  in  the  person  of  the  Queen,  with  this  culpable 
indifference  and  insolent  composure." 

At  the  moment  when  the  verdict  was  rendered  a 


120  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

vast  crowd  was  assembled  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Palais  de  Justice,  and  uproarious  applause  broke 
forth  at  the  news  of  his  acquittal.  When  the  judges 
were  leaving  the  palace,  the  multitude  kissed  their 
hands  and  flung  themselves  on  their  knees,  amid  the 
most  enthusiastic  applause. 

Applaud,  je  calumniators  of  Marie  Antoinette !  You 
are  only  at  the  beginning  of  your  career  of  hatred  and 
savage  joy.  Other  pleasures  await  you  in  the  trib- 
unes of  the  Jacobins  and  in  those  of  the  Convention, 
before  the  Conciergerie  and  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold ! 

The  Cardinal  received  most  enthusiastic  ovations 
on  his  return  to  his  house  in  the  rue  Vieille  du 
Temple ;  but  a  few  hours  later  he  received  from 
Louis  XVI.  the  command  to  send  back  the  ribbon  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  and  to  hand  in  his  resignation  of  the 
post  of  Grand  Almoner.  Moreover,  a  lettre  de  cachet 
exiled  him  to  his  abbey  of  the  Chaise-Dieu,  in  Au- 
vergne.  Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  Abb^ 
Georgel  was  surprised,  or  feigned  surprise,  at  this  per- 
fectly natural  event.  "  Who  could  have  imagined," 
he  said  in  his  Memoirs,  "  that  so  glorious  a  day  could 
be  followed  by  a  day  of  disgrace  and  exile  ?  Were 
we  not  justified  in  expecting  that  the  King,  in  his 
delight  at  finding  innocence  where  he  had  suspected 
guilt,  would  manifest  his  love  of  justice  by  bestowing 
on  the  Grand  Almoner  the  highest  marks  of  favor?" 
Could  the  Abb^  Georgel  have  supposed  that  the 
Cardinal  was  to  be  appointed  Prime  Minister  on  the 
day  after  the  verdict  was  given  ? 


THE  VERDICT.  121 


According  to  the  Baron  de  Besenval,  on  the  other 
hand,  "every  sensible  person  understood  that  the 
King  was  showing  his  aversion  to  the  Cardinal  who 
had  dared  so  boldly  and  indecently  to  compromise 
the  Queen ;  it  was  impossible  that  he  should  keep  his 
place  any  longer,  and  as  for  his  exile,  he  had  well 
deserved  it."  Such  was  doubtless  the  opinion  of 
reasonable  people,  but  reasonable  people  were  rare  in 
Paris  in  1786.  The  day  of  his  departure,  the  Car- 
dinal saw  a  vast  multitude  thronging  the  courtyards 
of  his  house  and  calling  him  to  the  windows ;  he 
appeared  there  and  gave  the  crowd  his  episcopal 
blessing. 

The  Abbe  Georgel,  whose  capacity  for  surprise  is 
really  extraordinary,  could  not  understand  that  Marie 
Antoinette  should  not  have  been  pleased  with  the 
verdict.  "Is  it  credible,"  he  exclaims,  "that  the 
news  of  the  Cardinal's  triumph  had  to  be  broken  to 
the  Queen  very  gently  ?  No  one  wislied  to  announce 
the  result  to  her.  Her  dearest  friend,  the  Duchess 
of  Polignac,  was  induced  to  tell  her."  Yes,  Marie 
Antoinette  had  measured  with  a  glance  the  abyss 
which  calumny  and  hate  were  opening  before  her; 
she  perceived  how  far  the  treachery  and  malice  of 
her  enemies  would  go.  "  Come,"  she  said  to  Madame 
Campan,  "  come,  pity  your  insulted  Queen,  the  vic^ 
tim  of  intrigues  and  injustice.  But  I,  for  my  part, 
will  pity  you  as  a  Frenchwoman.  If  I,  in  a  matter 
which  concerned  my  character,  failed  to  find  upright 
judges,  what  can  you  expect  if  you  should  have  a 


122  MAEIE  ANTOINETTE. 

law  case  in  which  your  fortune  and  your  fame  were 
at  stake?" 

Weber  records  that  it  was  on  this  occasion,  in 
speaking  of  the  infamous  calumnies  of  which  she 
began  to  be  the  object,  that  Marie  Antoinette  uttered 
these  admirable  words,  so  worthy  of  her  noble  heart : 
"It  seems  as  if  malice  had  coolly  devised  every  pos- 
sible way  of  wounding  me ;  but  I  shall  triumph  over 
my  enemies  by  trebling  the  good  I  have  tried  to  do ; 
it  is  easier  for  certain  people  to  distress  me,  than  to 
compel  me  to  revenge  myself." 

What  was  the  fate  of  the  different  persons  who 
figured  in  this  affair  of  the  necklace  ?  Louis  XVI. 
treated  the  Cardinal  with  no  excess  of  severity ;  the 
prelate,  finding  that  the  Abbey  of  the  Chaise-Dieu, 
among  the  mountains  of  Auvergne,  was  an  unfavora- 
ble place  for  his  health,  received  permission  from  the 
King  to  reside  at  his  Abbey  of  Marmoutier,  near 
Tours.  Soon  afterwards,  he  was  allowed  to  return 
to  Strasburg,  where  he  resumed  the  direction  of  his 
diocese.  When  the  Revolution  broke  out,  he  with- 
drew to  that  part  of  his  bishopric  which  lay  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Rhine.  His  noble  conduct,  his  gen- 
erous aid  to  the  emigres,  a  marked  improvement  in 
his  morals,  compensated  for  his  past  misdeeds,  and 
his  long  scandalous  life  came  to  a  Christian  end :  he 
died  peacefully  at  Ettenheim,  February  16,  1803. 

Cagliostro,  on  the  day  after  he  left  the  Bastille, 
received  orders  to  leave  France  without  delay.  He 
went  to  England,  and  afterwards  to  Switzerland  and 


THE   VERDICT.  123 


Italy.  This  singular  character,  who,  after  all,  was 
no  ordinary  man,  —  this  philanthropic  magician,  who, 
with  all  his  frauds,  had  yet  a  fascinating  side,  and 
humored  the  omnipresent  taste  for  the  supernatural, 
—  ended  his  singular  and  eventful  life  in  sad  circum- 
stances. He  was  arrested  in  Rome,  in  1789,  as  a 
Freemason,  and  condemned  to  death  by  the  Inquisi- 
tion ;  this  sentence  having  been  commuted  to  impris- 
onment for  life,  he  was  confined  in  the  Castle  of  Saint 
Leon,  and  there  he  died  in  1795. 

The  d'Oliva,  whose  fame  was  magnified  by  the 
affair  of  the  necklace,  received  many  proposals  of 
marriage.  She  chose  for  her  husband  one  of  her 
former  lovers,  a  certain  Beausire,  who,  a  few  years 
later,  had  the  honor  of  being  guillotined,  along  with 
many  noble  victims,  in  the  Revolution. 

As  for  Madame  de  La  Motte,  everything  in  this 
wretched  woman's  career  was  horrible  and  violent ; 
she  was  more  deeply  marked  by  fatality  than  by  the 
branding-iron  of  the  executioner.  She  was  sentenced 
to  be  shaved,  stripped,  and  beaten,  and  to  be  branded 
on  her  shoulders  with  a  red-hot  iron  —  an  indelible 
sign  of  infamy.  The  details  of  the  infliction  of  these 
penalties  are  most  horrible.  They  took  place  June 
21,  1786,  in  the  courtyard  of  the  Palais  de  Justice. 
The  wretched  woman  struggled  with  all  her  might 
and  main,  so  that  she  had  to  be  carried  to  the  scaf- 
fold. Even  when  she  was  loaded  with  chains  she 
continued  her  struggles.  Her  piercing  cries,  her 
efforts  to  escape,  only  redoubled,  and,  in  her  writh- 


124  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

ing,  the  hot  iron  slipped  from  her  shoulder  to  her 
breast.  A  last  shriek,  more  terrible  than  the  others, 
was  heard,  and  the  unhappy  woman  was  driven  to 
the  Salpetriere,  her  prison.  She  was  unrecognizable 
—  her  face  all  bruises,  her  eyes  swollen  with  tears  — 
when,  quivering  with  anger  and  despair,  she  crossed 
the  threshold  of  this  accursed  spot.  There  she  was 
the  object  of  public  curiosity :  people  came  from  all 
quarters  of  Paris  to  see  her.  It  was  forbidden  to 
speak  to  her,  but  she  could  be  seen  in  the  prison 
courtyard,  and  was  easily  distinguished  from  among 
her  fallen  companions  by  her  air  of  misery  and  her 
continual  lamentations.  One  night  in  September, 
1787,  she  found  a  means  of  escaping,  and  found 
refuge  in  England,  where  she  lived  on  hate  and  cal- 
umny. Her  vile  pamphlets  anticipated  the  shame- 
less denunciations  of  the  bloodthirsty  women  who 
sat  knitting  at  the  foot  of  the  guillotine,  and,  like  a 
venomous  serpent,  she  sought  to  poison  the  Queen 
with  her  venom. 

Hired  libellers  carried  on  the  campaign  of  lies. 
Even  Michelet,  the  open  enemy  of  thrones,  has  thus 
condemned  them :  "  Hired  by  the  Queen's  enemies, 
they  composed  about  Marie  Antoinette,  in  a  few 
pages,  a  horrible  legend,  which  was  absurd,  foolish, 
and  disgusting,  according  to  which  she  was  both  a 
Messalina  and  a  la  Brinvilliers,  poisoning  every  one 
who  stood  in  her  way,  giving  arsenic  to  every  new- 
comer." The  end  of  Madame  de  La  Motte  was  no 
less  tragic  than  her  whole  career.     One  evening,  in 


THE   VERDICT.  125 


1791,  she  imagined  that  she  was  pursued  by  men 
who  wanted  to  arrest  her  and  carry  her  back  to  the 
Salpetri^re.  Wild  with  terror,  she  jumped  out  of 
the  window.  She  was  not  instantly  killed;  but  one 
thigh  was  broken  in  two  places,  her  left  arm  was 
fractured,  one  eye  was  lost;  and  she  lingered  for 
three  Aveeks.  Thus  disappeared  the  last  of  the 
Valois. 

The  more  we  study  the  beginning  and  the  results 
of  the  affair  of  the  necklace,  the  more  odious  and 
tragic  it  appears.  One  man  was  particularly  struck 
by  it,  and  the  moment  it  began,  he  had  a  prophetic 
insight  of  the  terrible  consequences  Avhich  were  to 
ensue.  This  man,  who  was  in  Strasburg  in  1770, 
when  Marie  Antoinette  arrived  in  France,  had  been 
shocked  hy  seeing  in  the  pavilion  by  which  the  Prin- 
cess entered  the  island  of  the  Rhine,  tapestry  repre- 
senting the  story  of  Jason,  Medea,  and  Creiisa ;  that  is 
to  say,  the  picture  of  the  most  unhappy  of  marriages. 
He  Avas  not  mistaken  when  he  shuddered  at  this  evil 
omen,  nor  was  he  mistaken  when  the  first  news  of 
the  affair  of  the  necklace  reached  him.  "  In  1785," 
he  wrote  in  his  Annalen,  oder  Tag-  und  Jalweshefte^ 
1749-1822,  "the  affair  of  the  necklace  produced  an 
indefinable  impression  upon  me.  From  this  abyss 
of  immorality,  which,  in  the  town,  the  court,  and 
throughout  the  whole  state,  opened  before  me,  I  saw 
rising  the  most  terrible  consequences,  and  for  a  long 
time  I  could  not  free  my  imagination  from  the  ghosts 
that  haunted  it.     Once   in  particular  I  spoke  about 


126  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

this  incident  with  so  much  emotion  that  my  friends 
with  whom  I  was  staying  in  the  country  when  the 
first  news  came,  confided  to  me  later,  long  after  the 
outbreak  of  the  Revolution,  that  I  seemed  to  them 
out  of  my  head."  This  man,  whose  presentiments 
were  so  accurate,  was  both  a  great  prophet  and  a 
great  poet ;  it  was  Goethe. 

October  14, 1793,  Marie  Antoinette  appeared  before 
the  Revolutionary  tribunal.  The  public  prosecutor, 
who  called  her  Fr^ddgonde,  Medicis,  Messalina,  Brune- 
haut,  did  not  linger  over  the  affair  of  the  necklace ; 
there  was  but  a  brief  exchange  of  questions  and 
answers :  "  Did  you  know  the  woman  La  Motte  ? '' 
"  I  never  saw  her."  "  Was  she  not  your  victim  in 
the  affair  of  the  necklace  ?  "  ''  She  could  not  have 
been,  for  I  never  saw  her."  That  was  all;  not 
another  word.  Why  did  not  Fouquier-Tinville  press 
the  point?  Because  he  confessed  by  his  silence 
that  the  only  guilty  person  was  Madame  de  La 
Motte. 

Now  there  is  no  longer  any  obscurity ;  eminent 
historians,  who  certainly  cannot  be  accused  of  reac- 
tionary tendencies  or  of  any  partiality  for  monarchies, 
M.  Henri  Martin  and  M.  Lavall^e,  for  example,  have 
rendered  full  justice  to  the  Queen  who  was  so  in- 
famously attacked.  The  first  named  has  said,  "  The 
conviction  which  results  from  this  long  and  con- 
fused affair  is  the  impossibility  of  the  Queen's  guilt." 
"  There  is  no  doubt  that  Marie  Antoinette  was  inno- 
cent," says  the  other ;  yet,  in  spite  of  the  testimony 


THE    VERDICT.  127 


of  the  facts,  still  there  are  possibly  people,  who,  more 
unjust  to  the  royal  martyr  than  even  Fouquier-Tin- 
ville,  will  try  to  collect  in  pamphlets  as  absurd  as 
base,  gall  and  mire  wherewith  to  sully  a  pure  and 
venerable  name. 


XIII. 

A  PICTURE  OF  MADAME  LEBRUN*S. 

VISITORS  of  the  portrait-gallery  in  the  palace 
of  Versailles,  always  stop  before  one  picture, 
which  has  a  charm  and  beauty  that  are  sure  to  attract 
attention.  It  is  that  in  which  Madame  Vig^e-Lebrun, 
in  1787,  painted  Marie  Antoinette,  surrounded  by  her 
three  children.  The  Queen  is  sitting  in  the  drawing- 
room  of  Peace,  close  to  the  Gallery  of  the  Mirrors ;  on 
her  head  she  wears  a  velvet  cap  surmounted  by  a  tuft 
of  white  feathers.  Her  red  velvet  dress,  bordered 
with  sable,  shows  her  foot  resting  on  a  cushion.  The 
Queen's  complexion  is  marvellously  brilliant,  but  her 
expression,  while  both  gentle  and  full  of  majesty,  has 
a  dreamy,  melancholy  air.  On  her  right  stands  a 
little  girl,  eight  or  nine  years  old,  leaning  her  head 
on  her  mother's  shoulder,  and  holding  her  arm.  This 
child  is  Marie  Th^r^se  Charlotte,  the  future  Duchess 
of  Angoul^me.  On  her  knees  Marie  Antoinette  is 
holding  a  two-year-old  child,  —  Louis  Charles  of 
France,  the  Duke  of  Normandy,  who  later  was  to 
call  himself  Louis  XVII.  On  the  left  is  an  empty 
cradle,  the  covering  of  which  is  upheld  by  a  child  of 

128 


A   PICTURE  OF  MADAME  LEB RUN'S.         129 

six.  This  child  wears  the  blue  ribbon  and  the  in- 
signia of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  it  is  the  Dauphin. 

The  Queen's  sad  expression  is  easily  explained: 
Marie  Antoinette  had  just  lost  her  second  daughter, 
Sophie  Beatrix,  who  died  when  a  year  old,  and  this 
sad  death,  coinciding  with  the  outbreak  of  calumny 
and  the  first  threatening  of  the  Revolutionary  storm, 
was  for  the  unhappy  mother's  tender  heart  a  great 
sorrow  and  an  unhappy  omen.  June  25,  1787, 
Madame  Elisabeth  wrote  to  her  friend,  the  Mar- 
chioness of  Bombelles :  ''  Your  relatives  will  have  told 
you  that  Sophie  died  the  day  after  I  wrote  to  you.  .  .  . 
My  niece  [later  the  Duchess  of  Angouleme]  has 
been  most  admirable ;  she  showed  a  tenderness  uncom- 
mon at  her  age.  Her  poor  little  sister  is  very  fortu- 
nate. She  has  escaped  all  dangers.  I,  in  my  idleness, 
regret  that  I  did  not  share  her  lot  in  my  childhood. 
To  console  myself,  I  tended  her  carefully,  hoping  that 
she  would  pray  for  me.  I  count  much  on  that.  If  you 
only  knew  how  pretty  she  was  when  she  lay  dying  I 
It  is  inconceivable.  The  night  before,  she  was  pink 
and  white,  not  at  all  emaciated ;  indeed,  most  lovely." 

The  little  Princess  had  been  conceived  at  the  mo- 
ment when  the  trial  of  the  necklace  began.  She  was 
the  last  comer,  the  pledge  of  a  conjugal  harmony 
which  calumniators  and  evil  tongues  had  not  been 
able  to  disturb,  in  spite  of  every  invention  of  malice. 
Her  death  was  the  prelude  of  the  afflictions  of  every 
sort  that  were  about  to  fall  upon  the  unhappy  Marie 
Antoinette. 


130  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

One  who  looks  at  Madame  Lebrun's  picture  will  be 
struck  by  the  general  melancholy  expressed  upon  the 
canvas,  in  spite  of  the  splendor  of  the  dresses  and 
the  rich  coloring.  The  sadness  of  the  oldest  girl, 
with  her  eyes  raised  to  heaven,  the  precocious  seri- 
ousness of  the  Dauphin,  the  gesture  with  which  he 
points  towards  his  brother,  afterwards  Louis  XVII., 
the  pensive,  thoughtful  attitude  of  Marie  Antoinette, 
who  seems  to  be  dreaming  about  the  lamentable  fu- 
ture fate  of  her  children,  seem  to  be  a  presentiment 
of  the  artist.  There  is  a  smile  on  the  lips  of  the 
Duke  of  Normandy,  because  he  is  at  an  age  when 
mental  suffering  is  yet  unknown.  This  pathetic 
picture,  in  spite  of  all  its  splendor,  recalls  the  chil- 
dren of  Charles  I.,  painted  by  Van  Dyke. 

Madame  Lebrun  finished  her  picture  in  1787,  mean- 
ing to  send  it  to  the  exhibition  at  the  Louvre  in  1788. 
"  The  frame  was  first  taken  there  alone,"  she  writes 
in  her  Memoirs,  "and  this  fact  was  enough  to  call 
forth  abundant  abuse.  '  There  is  the  Deficit,'  people 
said,  as  well  as  a  great  many  other  things  which  were 
repeated  to  me,  and  enabled  me  to  foresee  the  severest 
criticism.  At  last  I  sent  the  picture,  but  I  was 
afraid  to  follow  it  and  see  its  fate,  so  much  did  I 
dread  the  adverse  judgment  of  the  public.  Indeed, 
I  was  so  uneasy  that  I  actually  became  feverish.  I 
went  to  my  room  and  locked  the  door,  and  was  pray- 
ing that  my  picture  of  the  royal  family  might  suc- 
ceed, when  my  brother  and  a  number  of  friends  came 
to  tell  me  that  I  had  made  a  public  success." 


A  PICTURE  OF  MADAME  LEBRUN'S.         131 

It  has  been  asserted  tliat  in  1788  the  feeling  of  the 
public  about  Marie  Antoinette  was  so  abominably  un- 
just that  the  government  had  hesitated,  in  the  first 
days  of  the  exhibition  of  the  Louvre,  about  exposing 
Madame  Lebrun's  picture.  But  it  is  certain  that  the 
sympathetic  artist's  eloquent  brush  silenced  malice 
and  disarmed  criticism. 

"After  the  Salon,"  continues  Madame  Lebrun, 
"  the  King  having  had  my  picture  carried  to  Ver- 
sailles, it  was  M.  d'Angevilliers,  then  Minister  of 
Fine  Arts  and  Director  of  the  Royal  Buildings,  who 
presented  me  to  His  Majesty.  Louis  XVI.  was  kind 
enough  to  talk  with  me  for  some  time,  and  to  tell 
me  that  he  was  satisfied ;  then  he  added,  looking  at 
my  picture, '  I  am  not  familiar  with  painting,  but  you 
make  me  love  it.'  " 

The  picture  was  placed  in  a  hall  of  the  grand 
apartments,  through  which  the  Queen  passed  every 
day  on  her  way  to  and  from  mass.  A  day  came 
when  she  no  longer  could  endure  to  look  at  it.  June 
4,  1789,  just  at  the  opening  of  the  States-General, 
so  fatal  to  the  monarchy,  the  Dauphin,  a  charming 
boy,  amiable  and  intelligent,  died  at  Meudon,  in  his 
eighth  year.  His  poor  mother,  overwhelmed  with 
grief,  was  unable  to  look  at  the  canvas  on  which  were 
the  features  of  the  dear  boy  for  whose  death  she 
was  weeping.  She  could  never  pass  through  the 
hall  where  this  picture  hung,  without  shedding  tears, 
and  a  queen  has  no  right  to  weep.  "She  told  M. 
d'Angevilliers  at  that  time,"  adds  Madame  Lebrun, 


132  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

"  to  have  the  picture  taken  away ;  but  with  her  usual 
consideration  she  took  care  to  have  me  informed  at 
once,  at  the  same  time  telling  me  the  reason.  It  is 
to  this  thoughtfulness  of  the  Queen  that  I  owe  the 
preservation  of  my  picture ;  for  the  fishwomen  and 
ruffians  who  soon  after  went  to  Versailles  to  secure 
Their  Majesties,  would  certainly  have  destroyed  it,  as 
they  did  the  Queen's  bed,  which  they  cut  through 
and  through." 

By  his  brother's  death,  the  future  Louis  XVII.  be- 
came Dauphin.  At  the  moment  of  his  birth,  this  child, 
who  was  destined  to  so  gloomy  an  end,  was  thought 
to  have  been  born  under  a  lucky  star.  His  birthday 
was  Easter  Sunday,  1785,  March  27.  In  opposition 
to  the  old  custom,  which  postponed  the  baptism  of 
the  royal  children  for  some  years,  the  young  Prince 
had  been  baptized  that  same  evening,  at  eight  o'clock, 
in  the  chapel  of  the  palace  at  Versailles,  by  the 
Cardinal  de  Rohan,  Grand  Almoner  of  France.  His 
godfather  was  his  uncle,  the  future  Louis  XVIII. ;  his 
godmother,  his  aunt,  the  Queen  of  Naples,  represented 
by  Madame  Elisabeth.  The  King,  accompanied  by 
all  the  court,  had  gone  to  the  chapel,  to  be  present 
at  the  baptism  and  the  "Te  Deum."  When  the 
ceremony  was  over,  M.  de  Calonne,  the  Comptroller- 
General  of  Finance  and  Grand  Treasurer  of  the  Royal 
Orders,  had  carried  to  the  infant  the  ribbon  and  star 
of  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  At  nine  o'clock 
there  were  fireworks  before  an  interested  crowd  in 
the  Place  d'Armes.     On  the  24th  of  the  following 


A   PICTURE  OF  MADAME  LEBRUN'S.         133 

May,  Marie  Antoinette  came  to  Paris  in  great  pomp 
to  give  thanks  for  her  recovery.  Fifty  men  of  the 
body-guard  and  a  brilliant  suite  accompanied  her 
state  carriage,  which  was  drawn  by  eight  horses. 
The  cannon  of  the  Invalides  fired  a  salute,  for  the 
future  martyr  was  still  applauded.  She  went  to 
Notre  Dame ;  then  to  Saint  Genevieve ;  and  after- 
wards to  the  Tuileries,  Avhere  she  dined.  The  same 
evening  she  supped  at  the  Temple,  which  she  was  to 
see  again  a  few  years  later.  The  festivities  ended 
with  fireworks,  which  the  Count  of  Aranda  had  set 
off  from  the  roof  of  his  house  in  the  Place  Louis 
XV.  The  Temple  and  the  Place  Louis  XV. !  Those 
words  call  up  many  memories. 

On  his  birth,  the  prince  received  the  title  of  Duke 
of  Normandy,  which  had  not  been  borne  by  any  one 
since  the  fourth  son  of  Charles  IV.  June,  1786,  Louis 
XVI.,  on  his  way  back  from  Cherbourg,  where  he 
had  been  visiting  the  great  works  he  had  commanded 
at  this  port,  was  warmly  greeted  by  all  Normandy. 
He  congratulated  himself  on  having  given  the  name 
of  his  beautiful  province  to  his  second  son.  ''  Come, 
my  little  Norman,"  he  said  to  him,  as  he  took  him  in 
his  arms,  "your  name  will  bring  you  good  luck." 
At  that  time,  everything  seemed  to  smile  on  the  son 
of  the  King  of  France. 

When  his  brother  died,  Louis  XVII.  was  but  four 
years  old.  He  was  a  remarkably  handsome  child. 
His  blue  eyes,  his  clear  complexion,  his  curling  light 
hair,   made  him   look  like   an  angel.     He   was   also 


134  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

amiable,  attractive,  and  more  sensitive  than  most 
children  of  his  age.  One  evening,  at  Saint  Cloud, 
his  mother  sang  and  played  to  him  a  little  song  of 
Berquin's,  and  the  young  Prince,  who  was  listening, 
did  not  move.  "  Hush !  he's  asleep,"  said  Madame 
Elisabeth.  But  the  child  raised  his  head,  and  said 
eagerly,  "  Oh !  dear  aunt,  can  one  sleep  when  Mamma 
Queen  is  singing?"  He  was  taught  to  read  in  a  book 
of  the  Marquis  of  Pompignan,  which  was  a  eulogy  of 
the  older  brother  of  Louis  XVI.,  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy, who  died  at  nine,  having  endured  intense 
suffering  with  surprising  courage. 

Louis  XVI.  had  learned  English  by  translating  a 
Life  of  Charles  I. ;  Louis  XVII.  learned  to  read  in 
a  book  devoted  to  the  memory  of  a  child  who  endured 
much  suffering.  "How  did  my  uncle  learn,"  he 
asked,  "to  be  so  brave?" — a  question  which  moved 
all  who  heard  it.  What  would  they  have  felt  if 
they  could  have  foreseen  the  cruel  blows  of  fate,  and 
if,  in  the  dim  future,  they  had  suddenly  descried  the 
cobbler,  Simon,  like  a  spectre? 


XIV. 

MADAME   ELISABETH   AT   MONTREUIL. 

JUST  when  a  thunder-storm  is  about  to  begin,  the 
reader  may  have  noticed  a  bird  seeking  refuge 
under  the  branches  of  a  tree  which  the  lightning 
threatens ;  this  dove  is  like  the  young  royal  maiden, 
who,  when  the  Revolution  broke  out,  was  living 
calmly  and  happily  at  Montreuil,  an  angel  of  inno- 
cence and  virtue,  whose  mere  name  is  a  symbol  of 
holiness,  —  Madame  Elisabeth.  Before  the  thunder 
begins  to  mutter  and  the  lightning  to  flash,  let  us 
rest  our  eyes  for  a  moment  on  this  noble  and  worthy 
girl,  soon  to  be  a  martyr ;  on  this  spotless  lamb,  one 
of  the  most  touching  victims  of  the  Revolution.  The 
time  is  approaching  when  Marie  Antoinette  will  find 
herself  abandoned  by  nearly  all  her  defenders,  her 
relatives,  her  servants.  Even  the  women  whom  she 
had  most  honored  with  her  friendship  will  leave  her, 
either  of  their  own  choice,  or  in  obedience  to  the  de- 
mands of  the  multitude.  But  there  is  one  woman 
who  will  not  abandon  her,  one  woman  whose  heroism 
will  grow  with  the  danger,  who  will  remain  full  of 
devotion,  even  to  death ;  this  woman  is  the  worthy 

135 


136  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

sister  of  Louis  XYI.,  the  worthy  descendant  of  Saint 
Louis. 

In  all  history  there  are  few  figures  so  sympathetic, 
so  gentle  ;  few  heads  that  wear  so  pure  and  bright  a 
crown  of  glory.  Are  not  such  beings  a  sort  of  com- 
pensation for  the  evil,  an  expiation  of  crime  in  times 
of  horror?  One  thinks  with  emotion  of  the  holy 
women  who  wept  at  the  Redeemer's  sufferings  on 
Golgotha,  when  the  executioners,  full  of  rage,  were 
insulting  Christ  upon  the  cross ;  when  the  men  of  the 
Terror  were  filling  France  with  tears  and  blood,  we 
regard  Madame  Elisabeth,  and  the  sight  of  this  holy 
victim  reconciles  us  with  humanity. 

The  future  martyr  had  known  sorrow  from  the 
cradle.  She  was  born  May  3,  1764,  and  before  she 
was  three,  had  lost  both  father  and  mother.  She  trans- 
ferred her  affection  to  her  brothers,  and  especially 
to  the  eldest,  the  Duke  of  Berry,  later  Louis  XVI. 
The  young  Princess's  education  was  confided  to  two 
women  of  superior  worth,  —  the  Countess  of  Marsan 
and  the  Baroness  of  Mackau.  She  was  naturally 
enthusiastic,  quick-tempered,  and  inclined  to  haugh- 
tiness ;  she  became  kind,  gentle,  humble.  Religion 
so  softened  and  modified  her  character  that  she 
became  a  saint.  Her  genuine  piety  was  not  at  all 
severe ;  her  devoutness  was  the  expression  of  a  noble 
soul  in  full  light.  Her  conscience  was  as  calm  and 
clear  as  her  face.  She  liked  to  pray  with  the  young 
girls  of  Saint  Cyr,  or  with  the  Carmelite  Sisters  of 
Saint  Denis,  among  whom  was  her  aunt,  Madame 


MADAME  ELISABETH  AT  MONTBEUIL.       137 

Louise  de  France,  in  religion,  Mother  Th^rese  of 
Saint  Augustine. 

"  Not  satisfied  with  coming  often  to  be  edified  with 
her  aunt's  virtues,"  writes  one  of  the  Carmelites, 
"  she  devoted  herself  to  the  humblest  functions  of  a 
convent  life.  One  day  when  she  had  arrived  at  an 
early  hour  at  the  nunnery,  she  expressed  a  desire  to 
serve  the  dinner  to  the  whole  sisterhood ;  our  revered 
Mother  suggested  to  her  this  exercise,  which  suited 
her  perfectly.  She  went  into  the  refectory,  put  on 
an  apron,  and  after  kissing  the  earth,  went  to  the 
kitchen  door;  she  was  given  a  tray  on  which  was 
set  the  sisters'  food.  She  distributed  it  to  them  care- 
fully, when  suddenly  the  tray  tipped,  and  some  of  the 
food  fell  on  the  floor.  Her  embarrassment  was  in- 
tense; to  relieve  her,  the  Prioress  said,  'My  niece, 
after  a  blunder  like  that  you  should  kiss  the  earth.' 
At  once  Madame  Elisabeth  prostrated  herself,  and 
then  continued  her  task  without  further  incident. 
It  was  a  real  pleasure  to  our  venerable  Mother  to  see 
the  virtues  of  her  family  reappearing  in  this  young 
princess."  The  sister  of  Louis  XVI.,  serving  the 
meal  of  the  Carmelites  along  with  the  daughter  of 
Louis  XV.,  is  a  subject  to  be  recommended  to  artists 
fond  of  painting  religious  pictures. 

Many  princes  thought  of  asking  for  the  hand  of 
Madame  Elisabeth.  It  is  only  necessary  to  glance  at 
Sicardi's  miniature,  which  belongs  to  the  Marquis  of 
Raigecourt,  or  at  the  lovely  bust  in  the  palace  of 
Versailles,  to  understand  the  charm  of  this  young 


138  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

and  attractive  princess.  Then  came  up  the  question 
of  her  marriage  with  a  prince  of  Portugal,  and  again, 
with  Joseph  II.,  who  paid  her  much  attention  when 
he  visited  France  in  177T.  Political  reasons  pre- 
vented these  proposed  alliances,  much  to  Madame 
Elisabeth's  content. 

Like  Isabelle  of  France,  the  sister  of  Saint  Louis, 
Madame  Elisabeth  preferred  the  happiness  of  remain- 
ing with  a  brother  whom  she  loved,  to  an  exile  how- 
ever brilliant.  She  was  extremely  fond  of  the  palace 
of  Versailles,  where  she  was  born ;  of  its  park  full  of 
reminiscences  of  her  childhood,  of  the  chapel  where 
she  had  so  often  prayed.  She  had  a  sincere  affection 
for  her  brothers,  her  aunts,  her  governesses,  her  maids 
of  honor,  and  for  her  friends.  Her  tender  soul  would 
have  been  tortured  by  the  thought  of  leaving  them  ; 
hence  she  soon  gave  up  all  idea  of  marrying. 

At  an  entertainment  given  at  the  Trianon,  June  6, 
1782,  in  honor  of  the  Grand  Duke  Paul  of  Russia, 
the  Baroness  d'Oberkirch  was  given  a  place  by  the 
side  of  Madame  Elisabeth.  The  Baroness  in  her 
Memoirs  thus  speaks  of  the  Princess :  "  She  was  in 
all  the  glow  of  youth  and  beauty,  and  refused  every 
offer,  in  order  to  remain  with  her  family.  'I  can 
marry  only  the  son  of  a  king,  and  the  son  of  a  king 
will  have  to  reign  over  his  father's  realm ;  I  should 
cease  to  be  a  Frenchwoipan,  and  that  I  should  not 
like.  I  prefer  staying  here  at  the  foot  of  my  brother's, 
to  ascending  any  other  throne.'  " 

When  she  came  of  age  in  1778,  Madame  Elisabeth 


MADAME  ELISABETH  AT  MONTBEUIL.        139 

wanted  to  keep  all  her  masters.  The  Abbe  of  Mon- 
taigu,  who  has  been  compared  with  Fdnelon  for  elo- 
quence and  gentleness,  had  directed  her  early  studies. 
She  was  almost  as  devoted  to  work  as  to  prayer. 

In  1781,  Louis  XVI.,  who  dearly  loved  his  sister, 
made  her  a  fitting  present.  At  No.  41  of  the  Avenue 
de  Paris,  at  Versailles,  there  is  a  little  street  running 
north  and  south,  called  the  rue  du  Bon  Conseil.  At 
No.  2  in  this  street  is  the  entrance  into  a  building 
which  extends  for  some  distance  along  the  Avenue 
de  Paris.  This  house  was  built  about  1776,  for  the 
governess  of  the  royal  children,  the  Princess  of 
Rohan-Guemen^e.  A  lovely  garden  was  laid  out 
there ;  from  the  top  of  a  hillock,  eight  or  ten  metres 
high,  which  was  ascended  by  a  spiral  staircase  con- 
cealed in  the  shrubbery,  there  was  a  distant  view  of 
Paris,  lying  like  a  giant  on  the  horizon.  This  pretty 
place  was  situated  in  what  was  then  a  suburb  of  Ver- 
sailles, and  was  called  Montreuil.  In  1781,  the 
Prince  of  Gu^m^nde  became  bankrupt,  and  the  Prin- 
cess, in  order  to  satisfy  as  far  as  possible,  her  hus- 
band's creditors,  sold  her  diamonds,  her  furniture 
and  estates,  including  the  house  and  park  of  Mon- 
treuil. Madame  Elisabeth  had  often  walked  there, 
and  she  greatly  admired  its  shade  and  its  flowers. 

In  spite  of  her  love  of  solitude,  she  was  the  only 
princess  of  the  royal  family  who  had  no  country- 
house.  One  day  in  1781,  Marie  Antoinette  and 
Madame  Elisabeth  were  driving  along  the  Avenue  de 
Paris.     "  If  you  like,"  said  the  Queen  to  her  young 


140  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

sister-in-law,  we  will  stop  at  that  house  in  Montreuil, 
where  you  used  to  like  to  go  when  you  were  a  little 
girl."  "  I  shall  be  delighted,"  answered  Madame 
Elisabeth;  "for  I  have  spent  many  happy  hours 
there."  The  Queen  and  the  Princess  got  out  of  their 
carriage,  and  just  as  they  were  crossing  the  threshold, 
Marie  Antoinette  said,  "  Sister,  you  are  now  in  your 
own  house.  This  is  to  be  your  Trianon.  The  King 
has  the  pleasure  of  offering  this  present  to  you,  and 
has  given  me  the  happiness  of  informing  you." 

Madame  Elisabeth  was  then  but  seventeen  years 
old.  The  King  decided  that  she  should  not  sleep  at 
Montreuil  until  she  was  twenty-five. 

"  But  as  soon  as  she  came  into  the  possession  of  her 
dear  little  estate,  she  spent  only  the  evenings  and  the 
nights  at  Versailles.  In  the  morning  she  would  go  to 
mass  in  the  chapel  of  the  palace,  and  then  she  Av,ould 
at  once  get  into  a  carriage  with  one  of  her  ladies  to 
drive  to  Montreuil.  Sometimes  she  would  even  walk 
there.  The  life  she  led  there  was  monotonous  and 
like  that  of  the  happiest  family  in  a  castle  a  hundred 
leagues  from  Paris.  The  hours  for  work,  for  exercise, 
for  reading,  in  solitude  or  in  company,  were  carefully 
appointed.  The  dinner  hour  brought  the  Princess 
and  her  ladies  together  at  the  same  table,"  M.  de 
Beauchesne  tells  us  in  his  life  of  Madame  Elisabeth. 

In  the  same  book  he  adds  :  "  Later,  before  return- 
ing to  court,  they  would  all  kneel  down  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  in  conformity  to  the  habit  surviv- 
ing in  some  families,  would  have  evening  prayers  to- 


MADAME  ELISABETH  AT  MONTREUIL.        141 

gether.  Then  they  would  return  to  the  busy  palace, 
at  once  so  near  and  so  remote,  and  enter  their  official 
home  with  the  memory  of  a  happy  day  filled  with 
work,  lightened  by  friendship,  and  consecrated  by 
prayer." 

The  first  thing  that  Madame  Elisabeth  did  with  her 
new  property  was  to  give  to  Madame  de  Mackau  a 
little  house  adjacent,  upon  the  estate.  She  thought 
that  the  best  way  of  inaugurating  her  taking  posses- 
sion was  by  sharing  it  with  her  former  instructress. 
The  Baroness  of  Mackau,  who  was  not  rich,  accepted 
gratefully  the  gift  of  the  Princess,  and  established 
herself  at  Montreuil  with  her  daughter,  Madame  de 
Bombelles,  whom  Madame  Elisabeth  treated  like  an 
old  friend. 

No  one  understood  better  than  the  sister  of  Louis 
XVI.  the  holy  pleasures  and  exquisite  charm  of 
friendship.  She  was  the  benefactress  of  her  two 
dearest  companions.  Mademoiselle  de  Causans  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Mackau,  who  had  become  respectively 
the  Marchioness  of  Raige court  and  the  Marchioness 
of  Bombelles ;  and  Madame  Elisabeth  was  grateful  to 
both  for  the  benefits  she  had  conferred  upon  them ; 
for  truly  high-minded  people  feel  gratitude  to  those 
to  whom  they  are  able  to  be  of  service.  To  make  a 
dowry  for  Mademoiselle  de  Causans,  the  Princess  had 
advanced  to  her  the  allowance  she  would  have  received 
for  five  years,  thirty  thousand  francs  a  year,  from  the 
King.  With  this  sum  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand francs  Mademoiselle  de  Causans,  Avho  mari-ied 


142  MAHIE  ANTOINETTE. 

the  Marquis  of  Raigecourt,  was  able  to  remain  near 
her  benefactress.  Louis  XVI.  signed  the  marriage 
contract  June  27,  1784,  and  when  every  year  any- 
thing was  said  about  her  allowance,  Madame  Elisa- 
beth would  say,  "There  is  none  for  me;  but  then 
I  have  my  Raigecourt." 

Mademoiselle  de  Mackau,  Marchioness  of  Bom- 
belles,  was  two  years  older  than  the  Princess,  whose 
playmate  she  had  been  in  childhood.  On  her  mar- 
riage, in  1778,  the  King  gave  her  a  dowry  of  one 
hundred  thousand  francs,  a  pension  of  six  thousand 
francs,  and  the  position  of  companion  to  Madame 
Elisabeth.  The  Princess  said :  *'  At  last  my  wishes  are 
gratified ;  you  are  mine.  How  pleasant  it  is  to  think 
that  there  is  a  new  tie  between  us,  and  to  hope  that 
nothing  will  loosen  it ! "  M.  de  Bombelles  was  an 
officer ;  in  1785  he  entered  the  diplomatic  career,  and 
in  1786  was  the  French  minister  at  Lisbon.  After 
losing  his  wife  in  1800,  he  took  orders,  and  became 
Bishop  of  Amiens  in  1819.  His  third  son,  who 
entered  the  Austrian  service,  in  1834,  married  Marie 
Louise,  the  widow  of  Napoleon  I. 

M.  Feuillet  de  Conches  has  published  some  of  the 
letters  written  by  Madame  Elisabeth  to  her  friends. 
Undoubtedly  the  sister  of  Louis  XVI.  would  have 
been  astonished  if  she  had  been  told  that  some  day 
her  letters  would  be  printed ;  for  never  was  there  a 
correspondence  more  void  of  literary  pretensions. 
"  Madame  Elisabeth's  style,"  sa3^s  her  editor,  "  is  a 
real  rough  diamond,  at  once   diffuse,  familiar,  and 


MADAME  ELISABETH  AT  MONTREUIL.       148 

incorrect,  simple  and  strong,  natural  and  easy,  a 
curious  mixture  of  frankness,  good  sense,  and 
strength,  of  original  simplicity  and  the  merriment  of 
a  school-girl,  yet  preserving  all  the  flavor  and  tone 
of  an  old  language,  in  its  ease,  while  showing  an 
intimate  and  tender  playfulness  which  endears  the 
Avriter  to  us." 

The  correspondence  is  full  of  pious  and  exalted 
thoughts.  One  might  say  that  the  sister  of  Louis 
XVI.  already  foresaw  the  approaching  tempests,  and 
was  asking  Heaven  for  strength  to  face  them,  with 
alarm.  In  many  of  the  letters  there  is  a  sort  of 
anticipation  of  her  heroic  endurance.  It  is  easy  to 
see  that  this  young  girl  was  no  ordinary  person ;  that 
deep  in  her  heart  lay  hidden  treasures  of  resignation, 
piety,  and  courage.  Touching  reflections,  wise  coun- 
sels. Christian  meditations,  abound  especially  in  her 
letters  to  Madame  Marie  de  Causans.  She  wrote  to 
her,  December  17,  1785  :  "  How  pleasant  the  idea  of 
eternity  becomes  when  we  can  say,  '  I  have  spent  all 
my  life  for  God ! '  " 

In  1786  Madame  de  Causans  had  just  lost  her 
mother ;  Madame  Elisabeth  tries  to  console  her  thus : 
"  We  must  lay  our  fears  and  hopes  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross;  that  alone  can  teach  us  to  endure  the  trials 
that  Heaven  sends  us.  That  is  the  book  of  books; 
it  alone  lifts  up  and  consoles  the  afflicted  soul.  God 
was  innocent,  and  suffered  more  than  we  can  suffer, 
either  in  our  heart  or  body.  Ought  we  not  to  be 
happy  to  feel  ourselves  so  closely  bound  to  him  who 


144  MARIE  Antoinette:. 

did  so  miicli  for  us  ?  Life  has  cruel  moments,  but 
through  them  we  attain  a  precious  treasure.  .  .  . 
Who  knows  how  soon  we  may  reach  that  moment, 
dreaded  by  many,  and  so  longed  for  by  your  mother? 
Let  us  try  to  deserve  that  it  be  as  calm  and  as 
exemplary."  This  wish  of  Madame  Elisabeth's  was 
granted ;  for  no  death  can  be  more  admirable,  more 
sublime,  than  hers. 

February  9,  1786,  she  wrote  to  Madame  Marie  de 
Causans :  "  Let  us  turn  simply  to  God.  May  faith 
be  given  us  to  see  that  he  never  abandons  his  chil- 
dren !  If  we  feel  too  weak  for  his  service,  if  we  are 
discouraged,  let  us  not  rely  on  ourselves  alone ;  let 
us  say  to  him:  Thou,  O  God,  seest  all  my  heart; 
it  is  wholly  thine.  I  do  not  know  whether  thou  ac- 
ceptest  all  the  sacrifices  which  I  make  and  intend ; 
but  thy  Son  died  in  atonement  for  my  faults.  Look 
upon  him,  O  God,  and  even  on  the  cross,  where  our 
cruelty  and  sins  fastened  him ;  hear  him  who  inter- 
cedes for  us,  who  consoled  the  penitent  thief.  I 
would  imitate  him,  •  O  God,  and  recognize  thy  sov- 
ereign power,  and  believe  that,  whatever  may  befall 
me,  thou  wilt  not  desert  me."  Madame  Elisabeth 
ascended  the  scaffold ;  but  as  she  climbed  the  steps, 
the  God  of  mercy  did  not  desert  her,  and  death  was 
rather  an  entrance  into  glory  than  a  punishment. 

She  wrote  to  Madame  de  Causans,  March  29, 1786: 
"  Do  not  listen  to  the  emptiness  that  surrounds  you  ; 
and  when  it  torments  you  too  much,  cast  your  eyes 
on  Christ,  and  you  will  see  that  he  has  more  sym- 


MADAME  ELISABETH  AT  MONTBEUIL.       145 

pathy  and  more  care  for  you  than  you  can  expect 
from  human  beings.  He  is  ever  at  your  heart's  door, 
asking  only  to  enter."  She  wrote  to  Madame  de 
Bombelles,  July  2,  1787 :  ''  The  more  one  sees  of  the 
world,  the  more  dangerous  it  appears,  or  the  more 
worthy  of  contempt  rather  than  of  regret  when  the 
time  comes  to  leave  it.  Let  us  make  ready  for  that 
moment."  These  preparations,  so  often  neglected, 
were  made  most  fully  by  this  Princess. 

In  1785  she  witnessed  the  sudden  death  of  one  of 
the  gardeners  at  Montreuil,  and  was  with  him  when 
he  received  extreme  unction.  "Madame  sets  a  noble 
example,"  said  the  attendant  priest.  "  Sir,"  she  re- 
plied, "  I  am  receiving  a  greater  one,  and  one  that  I 
shall  never  forget." 

The  continual  thought  of  death,  an  unceasing  con- 
templation of  the  crucifix,  firm  hope  in  a  better  world, 
formed  the  secret  of  Madame  Elisabeth's  strength. 
We  feel  that  angels  upheld  her,  and  that  the  virtues 
made  a  sanctuary  of  her  pure  soul.  The  edifying 
death  of  her  aunt,  Madame  Louise,  the  Carmelite,  at 
Saint  Denis,  November  25,  1787,  was  for  her  a  severe 
lesson;  one  that  made  her  even  more  pious,  more 
truly  Christian.  A  moment  before  breathing  her  last 
the  nun  said,  "  It  is  time.  .  .  .  Come,  rise,  let  us 
hasten  to  heaven."  Madame  Campan  tells  us  that 
in  her  delirium  the  dying  woman  remembered  that 
she  had  been  a  princess,  and  called  out,  as  if  ad- 
dressing an  equerry,  "  To  paradise !  Quick,  quick. 
Gallop !  "     Madame  Elisabeth,  her  worthy  niece,  was 


146  MAUIE  ANTOINETTE. 

prepared  for  misfortune,  for  the  prison,  for  mar- 
tyrdom. 

But  the  last  hour  had  not  come ;  nothing  disturbed 
the  shades  of  Montreuil.  French  society,  on  the  eve 
of  its  great  upheaval,  was  still  the  plaything  of  its 
illusions.  As  M.  Taine  has  well  said,  "  Everywhere, 
as  this  society  was  approaching  its  end,  there  comes 
a  common  gentleness,  an  affectionate  softness,  like  a 
mild  breath  of  autumn,  to  soften  whatever  is  hard 
or  dry,  and  to  envelop  in  a  perf  ame  of  dying  roses 
the  refinement  of  its  moments." 

At  the  Trianon,  the  Queen,  wearing  a  straw  hat, 
a  dress  of  white  muslin,  and  a  gauze  neckerchief, 
watches  the  milking  of  the  cows,  like  a  farmer's  wife. 
Madame  Adelaide  takes  a  violin  at  a  village  festival, 
and,  in  the  absence  of  the  fiddler,  plays  while  the 
peasant-women  dance.  The  Duchess  of  Bourbon 
goes  forth  in  the  morning,  incognito,  to  give  alms  to 
the  poor  in  their  garrets.  The  King  and  the  Count 
of  Artois  help  a  wagoner  to  move  his  mired  wagon. 
Before  witnessing  the  terrible  spectacles  which  the 
Revolution  was  preparing,  this  society,  in  which  the 
great  were  becoming  intimate  with  their  inferiors, 
in  which  it  was  becoming  the  fashion  to  love  the 
country,  to  return  to  nature,  to  delight  in  the  sim- 
plicity of  rustic  manners,  to  be  humane,  generous, 
useful ;  this  society,  in  which  wives  followed  their 
husbands  to  their  garrisons,  and  mothers  nurse  their 
children,  in  which  fathers  for  the  first  time  took  an 
interest  in  their  children's  education,  —  this  society. 


MADAME  ELISABETH  AT  MONTREUIL.       147 

which  before  the  horrible  torments  of  winter,  was  en- 
joying the  warm  autumn  sun,  was  about  to  see  at 
Montreuil  a  delightful  idyl,  an  eclogue,  with  Madame 
Elisabeth  as  heroine,  which  admirably  mirrors  the 
tastes  of  the  epoch. 

It  is  a  rural  story,  recalling  the  country  of  William 
Tell,  the  ranz  des  vaches,  the  poetic  glaciers  of  Switz- 
erland. Paris  and  Versailles  mingled  their  tears 
over  this  rustic  scene,  which  was  like  one  of  Greurze's 
pictures  in  its  touching  simplicity  that  calls  forth 
both  smiles  and  tears. 

At  Montreuil  Madame  Elisabeth  led  a  quiet  farm 
life.  The  farmyard  was  full  of  water-fowl ;  and  her 
barn  was  crowded  with  cows  to  supply  milk  to  the 
motherless  children  of  the  neighborhood.  She  was 
astounded  at  the  number  of  the  children  who  came 
after  it.  Then  she  enlarged  her  barn,  sent  to  Switzer- 
land for  more  cows,  and  desired  to  have  them  put 
under  the  charge  of  a  man  of  that  country,  an  honest 
peasant  on  whom  she  could  depend.  Madame  de  Dies- 
bach  the  wife  of  a  Swiss  officer,  recommended  to  her 
for  this  position  a  certain  Jacques  Bosson,  of  Bulle, 
near  Freiburg.  As  he  had  a  father  and  mother 
who  were  very  fond  of  him,  Madame  Elisabeth  sent 
for  them  all  then.  They  arrived  at  Montreuil,  and 
Jacques  was  put  in  charge  of  the  barn,  which  he 
tended  with  great  zeal.  "  You  must  remember,"  said 
the  Princess,  "  that  the  milk  of  these  cows  belongs  to 
the  children.  I  shall  not  take  any  of  it  myself  until 
they  have  all  been  supplied."     Jacques  and  his  par- 


14B  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

ents,  when  they  beheld  their  benefactress's  kindness, 
exclaimed  every  moment :  "  What  a  kind  Princess ! 
In  all  Switzerland  there  is  nothing  more  perfect." 

Yet  Jacques  was  not  happy.  There  was  some- 
thing lacking;  the  girl  to  whom  he  was  engaged 
was  far  away,  among  the  mountains ;  hence  his 
melancholy.  One  day  Madame  Elisabeth,  who  had 
noticed  his  sadness,  asked  the  reason.  "  I  thought 
I  had  made  one  person  happy,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  and  I  have  made  two  miserable.  But  the  evil  can  be 
repaired."  Was  not  the  Princess  the  good  angel  of 
her  servants  as  she  was  of  the  poor  ?  She  sent  for 
Marie,  the  young  girl ;  she  had  Jacques  marry  her. 
May  26,  1789,  and  she  appointed  her  milkmaid  of 
Montreuil.     Poor  Jacques  was  full  of  joy. 

His  melancholy,  when  separated  from  his  betrothed, 
inspired  a  friend  of  Madame  Elisabeth,  the  Marchion- 
ess of  Travanet,  sister  of  the  Marchioness  of  Bom- 
belles,  with  the  words  and  music  of  a  song  which 
court  and  town  used  to  repeat  with  effusion :  — 

"  Poor  Jacques,  when  I  was  near  thee, 

I  did  not  feel  my  misery. 
But  now,  when  thou  art  far  away, 

I  know  no  pleasure  m  the  world ; 
When  thou  camest  to  share  my  toil, 

I  found  my  task  light : 
Dost  thou  remember  ?    Every  day  was  happy. 

Who  will  restore  to  me  that  time  ? 
When  the  sun  shines  upon  our  fields, 

I  cannot  endure  its  light ; 
When  I  am  in  the  shadows  of  the  forest, 

I  accuse  all  nature." 


MADAME  ELISABETH  AT  MONTREUIL.       149 

Our  grandmothers  used  to  sing  us  to  sleep  with 
this  song,  the  gentle,  plaintive  charm  of  which  blends 
with  the  memory  of  the  kind  woman  who  was 
Jacques's  benefactress. 


XV. 

cazotte's  prophecy. 

ALAS  !  the  season  for  pastorals  is  nearly  at  an 
end.  The  second  part  of  Madame  Elisabeth's 
life  is  to  present  a  striking  contrast  with  the  first. 
A  sort  of  religious  idyl,  of  holy  eclogue,  will  conclude 
this  most  pathetic  drama.  The  sister  of  Louis  XVI. 
had  a  presentiment  that  too  much  confidence  could 
not  be  placed  in  the  virtuous  language  of  the  time. 
She  wrote  to  Madame  Marie  de  Causans,  March  24, 
1786,  this  sentence,  which  was  only  too  accurate: 
"  Although  our  age  is  very  proud  of  its  tenderness, 
this  is  much  more  a  matter  of  words  than  of  feelings." 
They  imagined  themselves  living  in  the  Golden  Age ; 
it  was  soon  to  be  the  Age  of  Iron.  Suddenly  the 
prospect  became  dark  ;  the  tide  rose,  the  sky  clouded, 
and  the  air  became  full  of  evil  omens.  The  Baroness 
d'Oberkirch  said,  in  speaking  of  the  year  1788: 
"  There  were  current  at  that  time  in  France  and  in 
foreign  parts  many  prophecies  of  different  persons. 
These  prophecies  found  a  wide  belief;  those,  espe- 
cially, of  M.  Cazotte.  A  great  many  people  had 
heard  him  utter  them.     But   they  announced   such 

150 


CAZOTTE'S    PROPHECY.  151 

extraordinary  things  that  reason  was  compelled  to 
class  them  with  dreams  and  exaggerations."  La 
Harpe  has  reported  one  which  was  made,  he  says,  by 
this  singular  prophet,  in  the  presence  of  the  Duchess 
of  Gramont,  early  in  1788.  Doubtless  La  Harpe  has 
added  to  what  he  remembered,  but  in  the  Gramont 
family  as  well  as  in  that  of  the  Cazottes,  the  exist- 
ence of  the  prediction  is  regarded  as  an  authentic 
tradition. 

The  Duchess  of  Gramont  had  said :  "  We  women 
are  very  lucky  in  having  nothing  to  do  with  revolu- 
tions. It  is  acknowledged  that  we,  that  our  sex, 
shall  be  spared."  "Your  sex,  Madame,"  answered 
Cazotte,  "  will  not  protect  you  this  time.  ...  You 
will  be  treated  exactly  like  men,  without  the  slightest 
difference.  .  .  .  You,  Duchess,  will  be  taken  to  the 
scaffold  —  you  and  a  great  many  other  ladies  —  in 
the  cart,  and  with  your  hands  behind  your  backs." 
"  Ah !  in  that  case,  I  hope  I  shall  have  at  least  a  cart 
draped  with  black."  "  No,  Madame ;  greater  ladies 
than  you  will  ride  in  the  cart,  and  with  bound  hands, 
like  you."  "  Greater  ladies  !  What  ?  Princesses  of 
the  blood  ?  "     "  Still  greater  ladies." 

Then,  La  Harpe  adds,  the  joke  seemed  to  be  going 
too  far.  Madame  de  Gramont,  to  soften  matters, 
passed  over  this  last  answer,  and  merely  said  in  the 
lightest  manner,  "  You  will  see  that  he  won't  even 
let  me  have  a  confessor."  "  No,  Madame ;  you  will 
not  have  one,  nor  will  any  one.  The  last  who  will 
be  allowed  one,  will  be  — " 


152  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

Then  he  stopped  for  a  moment. 

"  Well,  who  is  the  happy  mortal  who  shall  enjoy 
this  privilege?" 

"  It's  the  only  one  that  will  be  left  him,  and  it  will 
be  the  King  of  France." 

This  strange  prophecy  was  indeed  a  gloomy  one ; 
but  however  his  imagination  may  have  been  haunted 
by  gloomy  phantoms,  can  it  have  foreseen  anything 
to  be  compared  with  what  actually  happened  a  few 
years  later.  May  10,  1794?  Let  us  transport  oar- 
selves  to  that  period,  and  enter  the  Temple  in  the 
evening  of  May  9. 

Ever  since  she  had  been  separated  from  the  Queen, 

—  that  is  to  say,  since  August  2,  1793,  —  Madame 
Elisabeth  had  been  imprisoned  there  with  her  niece, 
the  future  Duchess  of  Angouleme.  Their  captivity 
had  lasted  twenty-one  months.  Having  been  kept  in 
close  confinement  and  in  absolute  ignorance  of  every- 
thing that  was  going  on,  —  for  their  sole  means  of 
information  was  the  crying  of  the  newsboys  outside, 

—  the  two  prisoners  did  not  know  whether  Marie 
Antoinette  was  living  or  dead.  They  confided  their 
sufferings  to  God;  and  in  their  angelic  calm  and 
resignation  they  realized  Shakespeare's  image  of  Pa- 
tience smiling  at  grief.  Every  day,  Madame  Elisa- 
beth used  to  utter  this  prayer  in  company  with  her 
niece,  to  whom  she  had  become  a  second  mother ;  it 
was  a  prayer  she  had  herself  composed  in  prison :  — 

"What  will  befall  me  to-day,  O  God?  I  do  not 
know.     I  only  know  that  nothing  will  happen  which 


CAZOTTE'S  PROPHECY.  153 

thou  hast  not  foreseen,  determined,  desired,  and 
ordered  from  all  eternity.  That  is  enough  for  me. 
I  worship  thy  eternal  and  impenetrable  designs;  I 
submit  to  them  with  all  my  heart  through  love  for 
thee.  I  will  everything,  I  accept  everything,  I  make 
a  sacrifice  to  you  of  everything,  and  I  add  this 
sacrifice  to  that  of  my  blessed  Saviour.  I  beg  of 
thee  in  his  name,  and  through  his  infinite  merits, 
patience  in  my  sufferings,  and  that  perfect  submission 
which  is  due  to  thee  for  all  that  thou  desirest  or 
permittest." 

The  9th  of  May,  1794,  is  drawing  to  its  end;  it  is 
seven  o'clock  in  the  evening.  The  two  prisoners, 
who  are  accustomed  to  rise  very  early,  are  making 
ready  to  go  to  bed,  when  suddenly  they  hear  their 
bolts  drawn.  They  hasten  to  put  on  the  dresses  they 
have  just  taken  off.  A  man  goes  up  to  Madame 
Elisabeth,  and  says :  "  Citoyenne,  come  down  at  once ; 
you  are  wanted."  "Does  my  niece  stay  here?" 
"  That's  none  of  your  business.  We  shall  see  about 
her  later."  The  Princess  then  embraces  her  young 
companion,  and  says  to  her,  "  Be  calm ;  I  shall  be 
back  soon."  A  brutal  voice  calls  out,  "  No ;  you 
won't  come  back !  Put  on  your  bonnet,  and  come 
down."  Madame  Elisabeth  pressed  her  niece  to  her 
heart:  "Well,  be  courageous  and  firm,  trust  always 
to  God ;  remember  the  religious  principles  which  your 
parents  gave  you,  and  be  faithful  to  the  last  coun- 
sels of  your  father  and  mother."  The  two  captives 
remained  in  each  other's  arms  a  moment;  then  the 


154  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

aunt,  who  is  leaving  her  niece  forever,  walks  away 
firmly  and  quickly,  with  these  last  words :  "  Think 
of  God,  my  child." 

She  was  carried  first  to  the  Conciergerie,  and  then 
to  the  Revolutionary  tribunal,  and  after  going  through 
the  mockery  of  a  trial,  she  was  condemned  to  death, 
along  with  twenty-three  other  victims.  As  she  was 
leaving  the  court-room,  Fouquier-Tinville  could  not 
keep  from  exclaiming,  "It  must  be  confessed  that 
she  has  not  uttered  a  word  of  complaint ! "  "  What 
should  Elisabeth  of  France  complain  of?"  answered 
one  of  the  so-called  judges.  "Haven't  we  to-day 
made  a  suitable  aristocratic  court  for  her  ?  There  is 
no  reason  she  should  not  imagine  herself  in  the  Ver- 
sailles drawing-rooms  when  she  finds  herself  at  the 
guillotine,  in  company  with  all  these  faithful  nobles." 

That  man  did  not  know  w^hat  true  words  he  spoke. 
The  execution  was  to  be  only  an  entrance  to  glory. 
Madame  Elisabeth  was  to  edify,  console,  and  cheer 
her  companions,  —  Madame  de  Sdnozan,  the  oldest  of 
the  twenty-four  victims ;  the  Marchioness  of  Crussol 
d'Amboise,  formerly  the  most  timid  woman  in  the 
world,  but  now  most  fearless ;  M.  de  Lomdnie,  for- 
mer Minister  of  War,  and  Madame  de  Montmorin, 
widow  of  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  who  did 
not  lament  on  her  own  account,  but  could  not  restrain 
her  tears  for  her  son,  a  young  man  of  twenty,  who 
was  also  to  die.  "  You  love  your  son,"  said  Madame 
Elisabeth,  "  and  yet  you  don't  want  him  to  accompany 
you !     You  are  about  to  attain  all  the  bliss  of  heaven, 


CAZOTTE'S  PBOPHECY.  155 

and  you  want  him  to  linger  on  this  earth  where  now 
there  is  nothing  but  pain  and  sorrow."  Madame  de 
Montmorin  dried  her  tears,  and  embracing  her  son, 
said,  "  Come  !  We  will  ascend  the  scaffold  together." 

The  signal  is  given;  the  tumbrels  start  for  the 
Place  Louis  XV.  On  the  way,  Madame  Elisabeth 
continues  her  exhortations.  They  reach  the  place  of 
execution.  If  it  is  true,  as  has  been  asserted,  that 
Fouquier-Tinville  proposed  "to  bleed  those  who  had 
been  sentenced,  in  order  to  weaken  the  courage  they 
showed  in  the  face  of  death,"  he  certainly  must  have 
had  good  reason  to  regret  that  this  measure,  which  is 
quite  in .  the  spirit  of  the  Revolution,  had  not  been 
adopted  for  the  batch  of  May  10,  1794.  All  the 
victims,  inspired  by  the  presence  of  the  noble  sister 
of  the  martyred  King,  showed  admirable  courage. 

The  first  name  called  by  the  executioner  was  that 
of  Madame  de  Crussol.  She  bowed  to  Madame 
Elisabeth.  "Ah,  Madame  I  ,if  Your  Royal  Highness 
would  deign  to  kiss  me,  I  should  be  perfectly  happy." 
"  Very  gladly,"  answered  the  Princess,  "  and  with  all 
my  heart."  All  the  other  women  enjoyed  the  same 
privilege.  The  men  bowed  and  kissed  respectfully 
the  hand  of  the  daughter  of  kings.  One  man  in  the 
crowd  about  the  guillotine  shouted  out,  "  There's  no 
need  for  all  this  salaaming ;  there  she  is  now,  like  the 
Austrian  !  "  Madame  Elisabeth  heard  him,  and  then 
learned  for  the  first  time  that  she  was  to  meet  Marie 
Antoinette  in  heaven.  One  after  another  the  vic- 
tims ascended  the  scaffold,  and  went  to  the  bloody  cer- 


156  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

emony  as  tlie  faithful  went  to  the  Holy  Table.  Orders 
had  been  given  that  Madame  Elisabeth  should  be  exe- 
cuted the  last,  in  the  cruel  hope  that  the  twenty-three 
heads  falling  before  her  eyes  might  perhaps  break 
her  courage.  It  was  an  unfounded  hope.  While 
the  sacrifice  was  going  on,  she  recited  the  "  De  Pro- 
fundis  "  without  a  change  of  color.  When  the  turn 
of  the  twenty-third  victim,  the  last  but  one,  came,  the 
saintly  Princess  said,  ''  Courage !  courage  and  faith 
in  God's  mercy."  Then  it  was  her  time  to  die,  or, 
rather,  to  enter  into  eternal  life. 

The  noble  virgin  ascended  the  steps  of  the  scaffold 
with  unfaltering  step.  She  betrayed  no  emotion, 
save  at  the  moment  when  the  executioner  wanted  to 
take  off  the  neckerchief  that  covered  her  breast.  "  In 
the  name  of  your  mother,"  said  Madame  Elisabeth, 
"  do  not  uncover  me."  Those  were  her  last  words. 
The  soul  of  Madame  Elisabeth  was  in  heaven.  All 
the  spectators  were  moved.  Even  the  knitting 
women,  the  Furies  of  the  guillotine,  ceased  their  up- 
roar, and  the  crowd  dispersed  in  sadness.  That  day 
there  were  around  the  scaffold  none  of  the  usual  cries 
of  "  Long  live  the  Republic." 

Madame  Royale,  later  the  Duchess  of  Angoul^me, 
was  left  alone  in  prison,  with  no  more  news  of  her 
aunt  than  she  had  had  of  her  mother.  She  did  not 
learn  their  fate  till  seven  months  later,  when  she  left 
the  Temple,  after  an  imprisonment  of  twenty-eight 
months.  Then,  when  with  tears  and  distress,  she  was 
speaking  of  her  relations,  a  woman,  touched  by  her 


CAZOTTE'S  PBOPHECY.  157 

grief,  said,  "  Alas !  Madame  has  no  relatives." 
"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  orphan,  "  Aunt  Elisabeth, 
too!     What  fault  can  they  have  found  in  her?" 

Was  it  possible  that  France  was  destined  to  behold 
a  repetition  of  such  scenes  ?  Was  a  time  to  come 
when  the  government,  forgetful  of  the  lessons  of  the 
past,  should  lay  down  its  arms,  to  the  terror  of  good 
citizens  and  to  the  delight  of  evil  ones  ?  The  history 
of  the  Revolution,  which  every  one  thinks  he  knows, 
and  no  one  knows  sufficiently,  cannot  be  too  carefully 
studied  and  pondered.  It  is  full  of  instruction  of 
service  to  high  and  low,  to  rich  and  poor.  What  we 
should  seek  is  not  food  for  wrath,  or  an  inspiration 
of  vengeance,  but  wise,  warning  lessons  of  wisdom 
and  firmness. 

When  M.  Feuillet  de  Conches  published  his  col- 
lection of  Madame  Elisabeth's  letters,  he  asked  a 
priest  to  write  the  preface.  We  have  just  read  this 
preface,  and  we  confess  that  it  made  a  deep  impres- 
sion.    The  following  passage  especially  struck  us :  — 

"  If  the  whole  life  of  Madame  Elisabeth  inspires  us 
with  a  feeling  of  affectionate  reverence  and  a  desire 
to  imitate  her  virtues,  her  death,  which  was  a  crime 
as  detestable  as  it  was  odious,  inspires  a  feeling  of 
horror  and  indignation  for  the  vile  and  cowardly 
assassins  who  then,  under  the  name  of  lawmakers, 
cumbered  France  with  blood  and  ruin,  and  crushed  it 
beneath  the  burden  of  their  vices  and  their  cruelty. 
I  should  like  to  add  that  it  inspires  all  honorable  peo- 
ple with  the  desire  and  resolution,  not  only  to  declare 


158  MARIE  ANTOINETTE, 

themselves  clearly,  but  also,  if  they  have  any  part  m 
public  affairs,  to  act  with  promptness  and  energy,  so 
that  the  vicious  shall  know  what  to  expect  and  what 
caution  they  must  observe.  For  it  is  a  moving  spec- 
tacle and  one  capable  of  arousing  good  citizens  from 
their  apathy  and  irresolution,  if  they  w^ould  consent 
to  take  account  of  their  own  force,  their  rights,  and 
their  duties,  and  not  to  lose  the  benefits  of  their 
principles  by  halting  counsels  and  impotent  action." 

The  priest  who  wrote  these  lines  had  no  illusions. 
Something  told  him  that  great  disgrace,  sore  trials, 
immense  catastrophes,  were  impending,  and  to  the 
page  just  quoted  he  added  this  page  which  is  full  of 
prophecy :  — 

"  Alas !  no.  .  .  .  Everything  begins  again  on  earth, 
although  nothing  makes  itself  over.  This  is  partic- 
ularly true  of  revolutions,  in  which  there  always  is 
present  an  imitation  of  the  past  which  will  again  be 
repeated  in  the  future.  Although  the  facts,  after  the 
event,  show  how  they  might  have  been  prevented  or 
modified,  this  revelation  is  denied  to  the  majority; 
it  adopts  again  the  same  methods  to  bring  up  at 
the  same  catastrophes.  In  the  same  way,  every  one 
knows  that  there  is  a  certain  secret  force  which 
carries  events  beyond  the  limit  fixed  by  human 
thoughts  and  desires ;  nevertheless,  this  often-attested 
truth  does  not  prevent  those  who  collected  the  clouds 
from  foolishly  hoping  to  control  the  tempest  which 
they  have  let  loose ;  it  does  not  render  the  multitude 
less  confident  in  the  promises  of  peace  and  happiness 


CAZOTTE'S  PROPHECY.  159 

with  which  hypocritical  flatterers  delude  it.  The 
faults  continue,  and  calamities  follow  close  upon  their 
heels." 

Who  was  it  that,  November  19,  1867,  put  his  name 
to  this  preface  ?  It  was  he  who,  less  than  four  years 
afterwards,  was  to  suffer  a  death  as  tragic  and  saintly 
as  that  of  Madame  Elisabeth.  It  was  one  of  the 
future  victims  of  the  Commune,  the  Archbishop  of 
Paris,  Monsignor  Darboy. 


XVI. 

THE  BEGINNING   OF   THE   REVOLUTION. 

"  I  \0  you  know  what  happened  to  me  the  other- 
1  J  day  ? "  Marie  Antoinette  asked  Madame 
Campan  some  time  before  the  Revolution.  "  I  was 
going  to  a  special  committee  in  the  King's  study,  and 
as  I  was  passing  through  the  QEil  de  Boeuf,  one  of 
the  musicians  said  loud  enough  for  me  to  hear  every 
word,  '  A  queen  who  does  her  duty  stays  in  her  own 
room  to  look  after  the  roast.'  I  said  to  myself, '  Poor 
man,  you  are  right;  but  you  don't  understand  my 
position.  I  must  obey  necessity  and  my  evil  des- 
tiny.'" 

And  Marie  Antoinette  sighed,  and  added,  with  an 
accent  of  profound  sadness,  "  Ah !  there  is  no  happi- 
ness for  me  since  they  have  made  me  out  to  be  dis- 
posed to  intrigue." 

The  Queen  had  a  vague  instinct  of  the  misfortunes 
that  were  threatening  her;  but  she  was  disturbed 
and  confident  in  turns,  yielding  at  times  to  the  illu- 
sions which  the  blindest  optimism  of  the  epoch  evoked 
in  every  heart.  There  was  expected  some  sort  of 
gentle  and  amusing  revolution,  a  political  entertain- 

160 


BEGINNING   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  161 

ment,  an  intellectual  tournament,  a  sort  of  Fronde 
perfected  by  the  philosophy  and  urbanity  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  It  was  thought  that  the  assemblies 
would  be  like  meetings  of  the  Academy,  the  clubs 
like  drawing-rooms,  the  newspapers  like  Grimm's  Cor- 
respondence. "  The  women,"  to  quote  from  the  Duke 
of  L^vis,  —  for  this  authority  still  existed,  —  ""ex- 
pected to  take  once  more  the  parts  of  the  Duchesses 
of  Chevreuse  and  Longueville.  The  young  members 
of  the  parliaments  counted  on  their  eloquence ;  the 
older  men,  on  their  reputation ;  and  of  the  young 
nobles,  some  began,  in  the  insignificant  meetings  of 
the  Freemasons,  to  practise  speaking  in  public  —  an 
art  wholly  unfamiliar  to  the  nobility  in  an  absolute 
monarchy.  All  means  .were  adopted  in  the  hope  of 
winning  success." 

All  were  fired  by  ambition.  "Every  man  who 
could  read,"  we  are  told  by  the  Count  of  Vaublanc, 
"became  a  profound  politician."  From  the  greatest 
noblemen  down  to  the  idlers  in  the  cafds,  every 
one  imagined  himself  the  possessor  of  an  excellent 
receipt  for  making  good  the  deficit  and  saving 
the  country.  As  M.  Aubertin  has  said,  "  By  all, 
even  by  the  court  party,  the  Revolution  was  invoked 
out  of  wrath  with  conflicting  ambitions,  as  well  as 
resentment  against  the  King  and  his  ministers,  and 
the  desire  of  revenge  for  some  vexation  or  disappoint- 
ment. The  inevitable  catastrophe  became  the  last 
resource  even  for  those  on  whom  it  was  to  fall  like 
a  punishment,  and  in  this  absurd  infatuation  of  offi- 


162  MARIE  ANTOINETTK 

cial  selfishness,  even  the  courtiers  expected  from  the 
States-General  the  destruction  of  the  central  power 
and  the  restoration  of  the  feudal  system." 

It  was  in  vain  that  some  solemn  souls  recalled  the 
tragedies  of  our  history,  and  the  bloody  memories  of 
the  Ligue.  The  mournful  words  of  these  prophets 
of  evil  called  forth  smiles  from  this  young  genera- 
tion, who,  in  reply,  boasted  of  the  advance  of  intel- 
ligence, the  refinement  of  manners,  the  progress  of 
science  and  civilization.  These  young  people  laughed 
at  religious  fanaticisms,  and  soon  it  was  to  see  civil 
society  turned  fanatical.  But  meanwhile  any  one 
who  pointed  out  a  black  cloud  on  the  horizon  was 
regarded  as  a  feeble-minded  coward.  In  this  mis- 
taken period,  which  is  called  the  Golden  Age  of  the 
Revolution,  politics  became  the  fashion,  a  refinement, 
a  new  means  of  delight  for  a  drawing-room  or  a 
boudoir.  Titled  revolutionaries,  in  silk  or  velvet 
coat,  used  to  discuss  the  Social  Contract  at  some 
dainty  supper.  The  athletes,  before  the  contest,  used 
to  anoint  themselves  with  some  prepared  essence. 
There  was  no  discussion,  only  conversation,  and  this 
was  full  of  courtesy  and  grace.  Never  had  there 
been  more  brilliant  talk,  or  more  wit  and  variety; 
never  readier  transition  from  gravity  to  severity, 
from  wit  to  seriousness.  "  What  a  charm,"  says  the 
Viscountess  of  Noailles,  "  there  was  in  the  parties  at 
the  beginning  of  our  terrible  Revolution,  when  intel- 
ligent and  enthusiastic  people  met  in  the  desire  to  do 
good !     The  old  tastes  became  the  refined  interpreters 


BEGINNING   OF  THE  BEVOLUTION.  l6B 

of  the  new  ideas.  Those  of  lively  initagiiiatioii  hoped 
soon  to  see  the  realization  of  their  wildest  dreams; 
every  abuse  was  gladly  denounced,  in  the  hope  of 
rising  to  a  height  that  should  be  understood  and 
respected  by  the  masses.  In  a  word,  they  fell  into 
a  well,  like  the  astronomer  of  the  fable,  while  gazing 
at  the  stars."  It  is  in  reference  to  this  period  of 
dreams  and  illusions,  of  charm  and  glory,  that  Tal- 
leyrand said  when  he  was  old,  "No  one  who  did 
not  live  before  1789  has  any  idea  of  the  charm  of 
life." 

The  great  mistake  of  Louis  XVI.  was  that  he  let 
himself  be  deceived  by  this  mirage ;  but  is  it  strange 
that  a  king  was  no  wiser  than  his  whole  generation  ? 
His  mistakes  were  those  of  his  time.  It  would 
have  required  a  mighty  genius  to  contend  with  the 
insubordination  which  was  spreading  everywhere. 
Bachaumont  tells  us  that  in  1780  the  King  congratu- 
lated the  Marshal  of  Richelieu  on  recovering  his 
health.  "  For,  in  fact,  you  are  not  young  ;  you  have 
seen  three  centuries."  "Not  quite.  Sire,  but  three 
reigns."  "  Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  them  ?  " 
"  Sire,  under  Louis  XIV.  no  one  dared  say  anything ; 
under  Louis  XV.  people  spoke  very  low ;  under  Your 
Majesty  they  say  everything." 

The  Prince  de  Ligne  has  made  a  very  similar 
remark :  *'  It  was  as  much  the  fashion,  under  Louis 
XVI.,  to  disobey  as  it  had  been  under  Louis  XIV.,  to 
obey."  Disobedience  prevailed  everjrwhere,  —  in  the 
government,  in  society,  in  the  family,  in  ideas,  and  in 


164  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

customs.  The  nation  possibly  still  loved  those  who 
governed  it,  but  it  had  ceased  to  fear  them.  The 
work  of  destruction  advanced  methodically.  The 
leaders  of  the  Revolution  had  begun  by  undermining 
the  altar,  and  that  task  once  accomplished,  the  throne 
could  prove  no  firmer. 

Doubtless  Louis  XVI.  did  not  understand  the  part 
he  should  have  played.  In  the  place  of  decision  there 
was  uncertainty ;  in  the  place  of  strength,  weakness ; 
in  the  place  of  single-mindedness,  divided  counsels, 
contradictions,  vagueness,  and  the  wilful  abandon- 
ment of  all  the  means  of  governing.  Yet  we  need 
not  be  surprised  at  the  bad  advice  given  to  Louis 
XVI.,  since,  after  his  bitter  experience,  we  have  seen 
the  reappearance  of  the  same  corroding  theories, — 
of  the  same  mad  theories  of  political  disorganization, 
and  power  once  more  abandoning  its  proper  means 
of  defence. 

This  is  not  saying  that  great  reforms  were  not 
necessary,  urgent,  and  imperative.  Such  a  thought  is 
far  from  us  ;  but  these  reforms  should  properly  have 
proceeded  from  a  single  person,  — from  the  sovereign. 
There  was  a  social  question  demanding  solution,  and 
this  social  question  should  have  outweighed  the  po- 
litical question.  The  King  might  have  put  himself 
at  the  head  of  this  movement,  but  on  the  condition 
of  directing  it  with  boldness,  and  of  preserving,  at 
any  cost,  his  regal  authority.  He  should  have  ap- 
peared as  the  protector,  not  as  the  servant,  of  his 
people.     The  details  of  the  edifice  —  the  porches,  the 


BEGINNING   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  165 

pediment,  the  arcades  —  miglit  have  been  modified,  but 
on  one  condition :  that  the  base  —  that  is  to  say,  the 
monarchical  power  —  should  be  preserved.  The  more 
important  the  reforms  demanded,  the  more  necessary 
to  strengthen  the  political  and  military  policy.  In- 
stead of  remaining  at  the  helm,  Louis  XVI.,  when 
the  storm  began  to  growl,  called  the  rashest  passen- 
gers to  take  his  place. 

Why  is  it  that  in  our  own  days,  Alexander  II. 
succeeded  in  bringing  about  peacefully  one  of  the 
most  important  of  modern  reforms ;  namely,  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  serf  ?  Because  he  was  able  to  dispense 
with  calling  an  assembly.  Suppose  the  Czar  had 
convoked  the  States-General  in  order  to  carry  out 
his  programme ;  in  a  few  months  Russia  would  have 
been  overthrown.  Why  is  the  great  nation  now  so 
powerful  ?  Because  its  ruler  has  never  listened  to 
this  foolish  phrase  :  "  A  sovereign  reigns  and  does 
not  govern."  Reform,  instead  of  rising  from  below, 
came  down  from  on  high,  and  hence  was  accom- 
plished so  speedily  and  so  gloriously.  All  monarchs 
who  wish  to  bring  about  reforms  ought  to  be  firm 
in  maintaining  their  own  authority.  When  innova- 
tions are  not  counterbalanced  by  rigid  discipline, 
they  weaken  and  undermine  the  power  that  proposed 
them. 

If  Louis  XVI.  had  been  a  great  man,  he  would,  of 
his  royal  authority,  have  proclaimed  equality  before 
the  law,  and,  supported  by  a  faithful  army,  he  would 
have  overcome  the  resistance  of  the  privileged  classes 


\ 


166  MARIE  ANTOINETTE: 


with  the  energy  of  a  Richelieu  or  of  a  Peter  the 
Great.  The  whole  people  would  have  followed  him 
in  this  path,  and  the  strength  and  glory  of  the  mon- 
archy would  only  have  increased.  If  Louis  XVI. 
lacked  the  vigor  and  determination  necessary  to  push 
through  the  reform  with  an  armed  hand,  if  he  pre- 
ferred a  silk  coat  and  knee  breeches  to  a  uniform, 
if  he  abandoned  the  right  of  punishing,  he  ought  to 
have  kept  close  to  the  old  routine,  governing  in  the 
old-fashioned  method  of  M.  de  Maurepas,  following 
the  advice  of  his  aunts,  and  above  all,  making  no 
concessions.  The  governmental  machine,  though  it 
seemed  worn  out,  still  preserved  traces  of  its  former 
velocity.  The  States-General  would  not  have  con- 
voked themselves.  The  Count  de  Vaublanc  said  with 
a  great  deal  of  justice,  "It  is  not  the  people  who 
make  revolutions;  it  is  the  kings  and  their  min- 
isters." 

The  architect  of  his  own  ruin,  Louis  XVI.  pro- 
ceeded to  forge  his  own  chains.  The  fault  lay  with 
the  theorists  who  deluded  him,  with  those  men  who 
were  forever  talking  about  necessary  liberties  and 
forgot  indispensable  authority;  who,  when  once  in 
power,  were  compelled  to  abandon  the  theories  they 
had  held  when  in  opposition.  We  may  truly  say, 
"It  is  the  fate  of  monarchy  in  France  not  to  be 
conquered,  but  to  be  betrayed." 

The  Louis  XV.  of  Madame  Du  Barry,  Louis  XV. 
himself,  decried  as  he  was,  would  never  have  been 
guilty  of  the  faults  of  his  unhappy  successor.     Maria 


BEGIN  If  IN  G  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  167 

Theresa,  who  was  thoroughly  versed  in  statescraft 
at  once  saw  that  the  okl  King's  death  was  a  catas- 
trophe. Loviis  XVI.  had  a  sort  of  presentiment  of 
his  own  weakness,  when  on  the  day  of  his  coronation 
he  said  that  the  crown  tired  him.  Alas !  he  shattered 
his  crown  and  his  sceptre  with  his  own  hands,  and 
the  time  came  when  he  was  obliged  to  exchange  his 
diadem  for  the  hideous  red  cap.  A  monarch  who 
renounces  his  prerogatives  descends  voluntarily  from 
his  pedestal.  It  is  like  what  is  called  in  Roman  Law 
an  abdication  of  civil  rights.  He  who  has  been  mas- 
ter cannot  become  servant. 


XVII. 

THE  ASSEMBLY   OF   NOTABLES. 

THE  more  history  is  studied,  the  more  striking 
are  the  illusions  which  blind  rulers.  It  seems 
as  if  Providence  put  a  bandage  over  their  eyes.  Louis 
XVI.  had  been  simple-minded  enough  to  think  of 
crowning  the  edifice.  The  Comptroller-General,  Ca- 
lonne,  wrote  in  the  paper  wherein  he  proposed  con- 
voking the  Notables,  "The  course  of  time  and  the 
changes  of  events  seem  to  have  brought  us  to  the 
moment  in  which  the  monarchy,  after  long  agitation, 
is  at  length  sufficiently  calm  and  ripe  for  improving 
the  constitution."  The  old  Marshal  of  Richelieu 
asked  what  punishment  Louis  XIV.  would  have  in- 
flicted on  the  minister  who  should  have  proposed 
assembling  the  Notables.  The  young  Viscount  of 
S^gur  said,  "  The  King  is  handing  in  his  resignation." 
Marie  Antoinette  was  angry  with  Calonne,  under- 
standing the  danger  of  a  parliamentary  assembly; 
but  Louis  XVI.  was  so  fascinated  by  his  minister's 
fine  phrases  that  on  the  day  after  the  council-meeting 
at  which  the  report  had  been  read,  he  wrote,  "  I  did 
not  sleep  all  night,  but  it  was  from  joy." 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  NOTABLES.  169 


Calonne  was  witty,  light,  brilliant,  fertile  in  re- 
sources, void  of  malice,  ill-will,  and  rancor,  a  man 
devoted  to  work  and  pleasure  ;  in  short,  one  of  those 
attractive  people  who  fancy  that  everything  is  safe 
because  the  victim  is  adorned  with  flowers.  When 
he  accepted  the  ministry  in  1783,  he  had  promised 
whatever  was  asked  of  him.  His  entry  into  favor 
was  a  perfect  ovation ;  but  soon  he  had  to  contend 
with  the  incessant  demands  of  the  Treasury,  and 
the  continual  loans  produced  an  unfavorable  impres- 
sion on  the  public.  Calonne  failed  to  see  that  the 
deficit  was,  not  the  cause,  but  a  pretext  of  the  revo- 
lutionary movement  which  was  beginning  to  assert 
itself.  He  lent  his  aid  to  a  parliament  at  the  very 
time  when  a  parliament  was  the  most  alarming  of  all 
the  dangers.  At  first  it  seemed  as  if  the  Notables 
were  going  to  form  a  thoroughly  conservative  assem- 
bly. It  consisted  of  one  hundred  and  forty-four 
members,  among  whom  were  seven  princes  of  the 
blood,  fourteen  archbishops  and  bishops,  thirty-six 
dukes  and  peers.  With  six  or  seven  exceptions,  all 
the  Notables  were  nobles  or  enjoyed  the  privilege  of 
nobility.  But  it  was  a  political  assembly  out  of  the 
usual  order,  in  a  country  which  had  not  seen  one  for 
a  century  and  a  half,  and  it  was,  in  fact,  the  germ  of 
the  States-General.  The  Notables  assembled  at  Ver- 
sailles, February  22,  1787.  They  held  their  sessions 
at  the  House  of  the  Menus  Plaisirs,  in  the  Ave.nue  de 
Paris,  at  the  corner  of  the  rue  Saint  Martin,  at  a  place 
which  is  now  a  cavaliy-barracks.     The  main  entrani  (; 


170  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

was  on  the  avenue.  At  the  end  of  the  courtyard 
was  a  grand  staircase  leading  to  a  vestibule  beyond 
which  was  the  assembly  room;  there  was  another 
entrance  from  the  rue  des  Chantiers. 

On  the  day  the  Assembly  of  Notables  was  opened, 
there  was  not  a  single  cry  of  "  Long  live  the  King  " 
from  the  vast  crowd  watching  the  procession.  As 
for  the  cry,  "  Long  live  the  Queen,"  it  had  not  been 
heard  for  many  years.  To  a  sagacious  observer  it 
was  plain  that  a  great  crisis  was  impending. 

Calonne's  plan  was  in  itself  very  good.  He  wished 
to  establish  a  proportional  equality  of  burdens,  to 
impose  a  tax  on  those  who  enjoyed  privileges,  to 
alienate  some  of  the  crown  domains,  and  to  extend 
the  stamp-tax.  But  he  lacked  the  vigor  and  persist- 
ence and  the  moral  weight  required  for  carrying 
through  so  bold  a  programme.  Surprise  was  general 
when  he  was  heard  to  pose  as  a  reformer,  indeed, 
almost  as  a  democrat,  in  his  speech ;  he,  the  favorite 
of  the  Count  of  Artois,  the  friend  of  the  Polignacs, 
the  lessor  of  the  courtiers'  funds. 

"  We  cannot  borrow  forever,"  he  said,  "  nor  can 
we  lay  taxes  forever;  we  cannot  draw  upon  the 
future  any  more ;  economy  will  no  longer  suffice. 
What,  then,  is  left  to  us  to  supply  what  we  need  and 
to  procure  what  is  required  for  the  restoration  of  our 
financial  condition?  The  abuses.  Yes,  gentlemen, 
it  is  in  the  abuses  that  lies  a  fund  of  wealth  which 
the  state  has  the  right  to  demand,  and  which  will 
serve  to  restore  order." 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  NOTABLES.  171 

In  the  same  speech  Calonne  flattered  the  passions 
of  his  time  by  speaking  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV. 
as  "  a  brilliant  reign  in  which  the  victories  impov- 
erished the  state,  and  intolerance  depopulated  it." 
This  official  utterance  of  a  minister,  who  thus  at- 
tacked the  memory  of  a  great  reign,  was  a  distinct 
sign  of  the  times.  Calonne  satisfied  neither  liberals 
nor  conservatives.  Being  abandoned  by  all,  he  left 
the  ministry  six  weeks  after  the  meeting  of  this 
Assembly  of  Notables,  from  which  he  expected  to 
acquire  security;  but  his  plans  did  not  disappear 
mth  him,  and  the  Notables  adopted  the  reforms  he 
had  proposed.  The  closing  session  was  held  May  25, 
1787.  The  optimists  still  deceived  themselves,  and 
the  chancellor,  Lamoignon,  said  in  his  speech  that 
"  everything  would  be  repaired  without  a  shock,  with- 
out any  disturbance  of  fortune,  without  modifying  the 
principles  of  government." 

The  Archbishop  of  Toulouse,  Lomdnie  de  Brienne, 
succeeded  Calonne.  The  Abb(^  de  Vermont,  the 
Queen's  secretary  and  confidant,  had  been  in  for- 
mer days  chosen  by  the  Archbishop  to  be  sent  to 
Vienna  by  the  Duke  of  Choiseul  as  tutor  of  the 
young  Archduchess,  who  was  to  become  the  Queen 
of  France.  The  Abb^  was  delighted  to  see  his  for- 
mer protector  in  the  ministry,  and  regarded  the  ap- 
pointment as  his  own  Avork.  "  I  have  more  than 
once  heard  him  say,"  Madame  Campan  writes,  "  that 
seventeen  patient  years  Avere  not  too  many  for  success 
at  court;  that  it   had  taken   him    all    that   time    to 


172  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

accomplish  the  aim  he  had  set  himself;  but  that  at 
last  the  Archbishop  was  where  he  ought  to  be  for  the 
good  of  the  state."  The  Abb^  became  an  important 
person.  He  had  his  apartments  enlarged  in  order  to 
have  a  more  appropriate  place  for  the  reception  of 
bishops,  cardinals,  and  ministers. 

The  Queen,  who  had  been  a  patron  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Toulouse,  took  more  and  more  interest  in 
political  matters.  Unfortunately,  neither  her  char- 
acter nor  her  education  fitted  her  for  this  grave  occu- 
pation. She  was  ignorant  of  history,  and  had  read 
scarcely  anything  except  novels.  As  the  Baron  of 
Besenval  said,  the  moment  any  one  began  to  talk 
seriously,  her  face  expressed  weariness,  and  the  con- 
versation flagged.  Her  talk  was  always  desultory, 
turning  from  one  subject  to  another.  The  gossip  of 
the  day,  stories  of  the  court  and  the  town,  gratified 
her  more  than  discussions  about  finance.  She  was 
ill  at  ease  in  the  political  circles  in  which  she  was 
destined  to  live,  and  she  herself  regretted  that  she 
was  called  upon  to  rule.  She  had  insensibly  acquired 
complete  ascendancy  over  her  husband.  ''  Whether 
through  superiority,  or  fear,  or  charm,"  the  Baron  of 
Besenval  says  elsewhere,  "not  only  did  he  never 
oppose  her,  but  I  have  seen  more  than  a  thousand 
times  that  when  she  was  speaking,  his  eyes  and  mien 
expressed  a  feeling,  an  eagerness,  which  the  most 
dearly  loved  mistress  seldom  evokes." 

Marie  Antoinette  had  the  best  intentions  in  the 
world,  but  she  lacked  the  persistence  and  decision 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  NOTABLES.  173 

necessary  for  one  who  is  to  rule.  She  made  a  mis- 
take in  calling  Brienne  to  the  charge  of  affairs.  This 
philosophic  prelate,  whose  wit  was  more  admirable 
than  his  morality,  and  whose  learning  was  superior 
to  his  judgment,  had  been  recommended  by  the  gen- 
eral opinion  —  a  fact  which  somewhat  excuses  the 
Queen.  As  Madame  de  Stael  said :  "  His  ecclesias- 
tical dignity,  combined  with  his  constant  desire  to 
attain  the  ministry,  had  given  him  the  external 
appearance  of  a  statesman,  and  his  reputation  en- 
couraged this  impression,  until  he  was  given  an 
opportunity  to  belie  it.  ...  He  admired  in  turn 
the  conduct  of  Cardinal  Richelieu  and  the  principles 
of  the  Encyclopsedists ;  he  tried  acts  of  force,  but  he 
drew  back  at  the  first  obstacle.  .  .  .  Arbitrary  and 
constitutional  in  turn,  he  was  awkward  in  both  sys- 
tems, which  he  tried  alternatively.  .  .  .  Defeated  as 
a  despot,  he  allied  himself  with  his  old  friends,  the 
philosophers,  and,  out  of  humor  with  the  privileged 
classes,  he  tried  to  please  the  nation."  In  a  word, 
he  personified  the  principle  of  the  pendulum,  which, 
everywhere  and  at  all  times,  is  the  method  of  weak 
governments. 

He  made  one  blunder  after  another.  Everybody 
expected  a  royal  session,  in  which  the  King  should 
have  the  Parliament  record  in  one  mass  all  the  edicts 
adopted  by  the  Notables.  Instead  of  that,  Brienne 
was  ill-advised  enough  to  send  in  the  edicts  one  after 
another.  Parliament  defended  the  privileges,  and 
yet  remained  popular  by  being  in  opposition.     The 


174  MARIE  ANTOINETTE, 

Palais  de  Justice  became  a  seat  of  revolution;  the 
stairways  and  courtyards  were  crowded  with  a  hired 
multitude,  with  no  opinions  of  their  own,  belonging 
to  no  party,  but  united  by  the  attraction  of  a  salary, 
and  turbulent  or  calm,  according  to  the  orders  it  had 
received.  If  a  resolution  seemed  violent,  the  warmer 
were  hand-clappings-  and  bravos  and  cheers  with 
which  these  gentlemen  were  rewarded  as  they  left 
the  meeting. 

The  Parliament  played  a  sad  comedy,  and  was 
rapidly  approaching  the  hour  of  its  suicide  when  it 
sustained  abuses  while  putting  on  a  mask  of  liberal- 
ism. When  the  imposition  of  a  stamp-duty  came  up 
for  discussion,  July  6, 1787,  it  demanded,  as  the  Nota- 
bles had  done,  information  on  the  financial  status. 
When  the  ministry  refused  to  accede  to  their  request, 
one  of  the  councillors,  the  Abb^  Sabatier,  called  out, 
*'  We  demand  the  status  ;  it's  the  States-General  we 
want."  This  play  on  words  was  very  successful,  and 
soon  turned  into  a  formal  proposition.  The  Parlia- 
ment expressed  a  desire  to  see  "  the  nation  assembled 
before  any  new  impost  was  laid."  The  members  of 
the  legal  corporation  composed  songs  about  the 
Queen,  calling  her  Madame  Deficit,  and  the  •  anger 
against  her  grew  so  violent  that,  by  advice  of  the 
lieutenant  of  police,  Louis  XVI.  forbade  her  to  show 
herself  in  Paris. 

The  Baron  of  Besenval  gives  the  following  account 
of  a  conversation  he  had  at  this  time  with  Marie 
Antoinette  in  the  garden  of  the  Trianon :  "  I  told  the 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  NOTABLES,  176 

Queen  that  it  was  in  vain  that  she  flattered  herself 
on  winning  over  the  Parliament ;  that  the  more  she 
temporized,  the  more  its  boldness  would  increase ;  that 
it  was  time  for  the  King  to  show  that  he  meant  to  be 
master,  and  to  have  his  own  way  by  acts  of  authority ; 
otherwise  he  would  have  to  lay  aside  the  crown,  and 
possibly  forever.  '  Ah  ! '  the  Queen  exclaimed,  '  M. 
de  Calonne  has  done  a  great  deal  of  harm  to  the 
country  with  the  Notables  I '  " 

Still  everything  might  have  been  saved.  With  the 
exception  of  the  cities  with  parliaments,  the  whole 
kingdom  was  perfectly  quiet.  The  populace  still 
kept  its  religious  and  monarchical  sentiments.  Dis- 
cipline prevailed  in  the  army.  With  a  little  vigor 
Louis  XVI.  might  have  preserved  his  rights.  In- 
stead of  that,  he  had  recourse  to  half-way  measures. 
After  having  exiled  the  Parliament  to  Troyes,  August 
15,  1787,  he  had  the  weakness  to  call  it  back.  He 
let  the  Duke  of  Orleans  organize  the  Revolution. 
With  inconceivable  blindness,  he  permitted  the  pub- 
lication of  a  mass  of  anarchic  pamphlets  and  libels. 
Nothing  else  was  read.  Booksellers  exposed  these 
incendiary  writings  before  the  eyes  of  the  public. 
They  were  read  aloud  in  public  places,  under  the 
very  eyes  of  the  police.  Soldiers  were  forbidden  to 
use  their  weapons  in  case  of  disorder  in  the  street. 
This  blundering  order  encouraged  evil-doers,  and 
soon  they  attacked  the  watch  and  burned  the  guard- 
houses. 

When  the   Parliament  returned  from  Troyes,  in 


176  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

September,  1787,  the  younger  lawyers  and  their  hire- 
lings illuminated  the  neighborhood  of  the  Palais  de 
Justice,  and  broke  the  windows  of  those  houses  whose 
owners  were  courageous  enough  to  withstand  the 
demand  of  a  troop  of  rioters.  Calonne  was  burned 
in  effigy  in  the  Place  Dauphin.  Manikins  repre- 
senting Breteuil,  the  Minister,  and  the  Duchess  of 
Polignac,  the  friend  of  the  Queen,  were  carried 
through  the  crowd,  amid  imprecations  and  abuse.  A 
little  more,  and  the  image  of  Marie  Antoinette  would 
have  been  treated  in  the  same  way.  "  From  a  chaos 
of  tranquillity,"  wrote  Mirabeau,  ''France  has  passed 
to  one  of  excitement."  The  Parliament,  protesting 
against  the  King's  bed  of  justice,  November  19,  1787, 
said  in  its  list  of  grievances :  "  Such  measures  are 
not  in  accordance  with  your  heart;  such  examples 
are  not  Your  Majesty's  principles ;  they  spring  from 
another  source."  These  mutinous  words  were  an 
allusion  to  the  Queen.  Brienne,  though  he  gov- 
erned so  badly,  clung  eagerly  to  power.  He  ex- 
changed his  bishopric  of  Toulouse  for  that  of  Sens, 
which  was  much  more  lucrative,  thus  acquiring  a 
revenue  of  six  hundred  and  seventy-eight  thousand 
francs;  and  moreover  had  himself  presented  with 
a  timber  privilege,  to  the  value  of  nine  hundred 
thousand  francs,  to  pay  his  debts. 

Everything  became  disorganized.  The  exile  of  the 
Duke  of  Orleans  to  Villers-Cotterets,  the  arrest  of 
the  Councillor  d'Espremesnil,  the  limitation  of  the 
powers  of   the  parliaments,  the  formation  of  a  full 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  NOTABLES.  177 

court  for  the  registration  of  edicts,  failed  to  check 
the  ever-growing  spirit  of  revolt.  Serious  trouble 
broke  out  in  many  parts  of  the  kingdom.  The  King, 
gliding  rapidly  down  the  fatal  path  of  concession, 
decided  to  convoke  the  States-General,  which  the 
insurgents  so  noisily  demanded.  A  resolution  of  the 
Council,  August  8,  1787,  appointed  May  1,  1789,  for 
the  holding  of  the  States-General,  which  were  so  fatal 
to  the  monarchy.  It  was  the  date  set  in  the  preced- 
ing year  by  the  prophetic  spirit  of  Mirabeau,  the 
future  tribune.  The  old  regime  itself  determined 
the  hour  of  its  own  death. 

A  few  days  later  (August  25,  1788),  Brienne,  suc- 
cumbing beneath  the  weight  of  his  unpopularity,  left 
the  ministry ;  and  Louis  XYL,  conquered  by  new  ideas, 
called  to  power  the  friend  of  the  liberals,  the  great 
banker,  the  celebrated  theorist,  the  author  of  the 
famous  Report^  the  idol  of  the  philosophers  and  of 
the  admirers  of  the  English  constitution,  the  father 
of  Madame  de  Stael,  —  Necker,  the  Genevese.  There 
was  a  moment  of  enthusiasm  ;  for  a  few  hours  the 
Queen  enjoyed  a  breath  of  popularity ;  but  the  oppo- 
sition to  her  only  redoubled  in.  intensity  when  it  be- 
came known  that  Brienne,  who  had  been  supposed  to 
be  in  disgrace,  was  going  to  receive  a  cardinal's  hat. 
Events  brought  out  the  character  of  this  prelate,  one 
of  the  four  who  gave  their  adhesion  to  the  civil  consti- 
tution of  the  clergy.  Put  into  disgrace  by  a  brief  of 
Pius  VL,  declaring  him  deprived  of  all  ecclesiastical 
dignities,  he  boasted  of  having  been  one  of  tlie  pro- 


178  MABIJE  ANTOINETTE. 

moters  of  the  Revolution,  and  presented  himself  as  a 
candidate  at  the  election  to  the  legislative  assembly,  as 
constitutional  bishop  of  Sens,  and  in  spite  of  all  his 
concessions,  nothing  but  his  sudden  death  saved  him 
from  the  guillotine.  Marie  Antoinette  cruelly  re- 
pented the  protection  she  had  given  him.  "I  have  seen 
the  Queen,"  Madame  Campan  wrote,  "  shedding  bitter 
tears  over  her  wrongs  at  this  period,  when  Brienne, 
shortly  before  his  death,  dared  to  say  in  a  speech 
which  was  printed,  that  a  part  of  what  he  did  during 
his,,  ministry  had  no  other  object  than  the  healthy 
crisis  which  the  Revolution  had  brought  about." 

Necker  was  an  honest  man  and  a  skilful  financier. 
He  was  a  slave  of  public  opinion  and  very  desirous 
of  popularity ;  and  thus,  like  all  such  people,  was 
carried  further  than  he  had  intended.  Although  a 
fervent  Royalist,  he  prepared  the  Republic  without 
knowing  it.  The  Revolution  began  in  the  early  days 
of  his  second  ministry.  The  Parliament  was  exceeded, 
like  Necker  himself.  He  declared  that  the  States- 
General  should  be  convoked  regularly,  according  to 
the  form  observed  in  1614 ;  that  is  to  say,  according 
to  conservative  rules.  Nothing  more  was  needed  to 
deprive  the  old  assembly  of  the  popular  favor  in  a 
single  day.  Its  army  of  advocates,  attorneys,  nota- 
ries, practitioners,  students,  deserted  it.  The  Par- 
liament was  already  punished  for  its  opposition  to 
royalty,  and  its  attacks  against  the  crown  turned 
against  itself.  Its  end  was  not  a  natural  one  ;  it 
died  by  its  own  hands. 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  NOTABLES.  179 

Necker  called  the  Notables  together  agam,  to  lay 
before  them  questions  relative  to  the  composition 
and  form  of  the  States-General.  They  met  for  the 
second  time  at  Versailles,  November  6,  1788.  Was 
the  Third  Estate  to  have  a  representation  equal  to 
that  of  the  nobility  and  clergy?  Were  the  votes 
to  be  taken  by  classes  or  individually  ?  The  whole 
Revolution  lay  in  the  way  in  which  these  two  ques- 
tions were  settled.  An  enormous  majority  of  the 
Notables  pronounced  against  the  double  representa- 
tion of  the  Third  Estate,  and  yet  Louis  XVI.  was 
imprudent  enough  to  place  himself  on  the  side  of  the 
minority.  This  was  the  opinion  of  Marie  Antoinette, 
who,  despite  her  fears,  still  had  illusions.  In  vain 
did  the  Count  of  Artois,  the  three  Cond^s,  and  the 
Prince  of  Conti  address  a  memorial  to  the  King,  in 
which  they  denounced  "the  Revolution  which  was 
preparing  in  the  principles  of  government."  The 
unhappy  monarch,  misled  by  his  exaggerated  kind- 
ness, was  fascinated  by 

"  that  spirit  of  independence  and  error, 
The  forerunner  of  the  fatal  fall  of  kings." 

The  Queen  was  persuaded  that  the  bourgeoisie, 
represented  by  the  Third  Estate,  was  devoted  to  the 
throne,  that  the  lower  clergy  would  be  held  by  the 
hope  of  preferment ;  that  Necker  would  have  author- 
ity over  the  lawyers  and  others  of  that  class  who 
composed  the  Third  Estate.  The  Count  of  Artois, 
who  held  the  contrary  opinion,  almost  quarrelled  with 


180  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

Marie  Antoinette.  The  Duchess  of  Polignac  and  all 
her  society  sided  with  the  Prince  against  the  Queen. 
Distraught  by  so  many  intrigues  and  such  contra- 
dictory counsels,  the  unhappy  Queen  could  find  no 
peace  in  her  friend's  drawing-room.  She  still  went 
there,  in  order  not  to  betray  any  change  in  her  habits, 
but  she  was  greeted  with  such  cold  respect  that  she 
always  went  away  in  sore  distress. 

December  27,  1788,  Louis  XVI.,  "  in  accordance 
with  the  wishes  of  a  minority  of  the  Notables,  the 
demand  of  the  provincial  assemblies,  the  opinion  of 
publicists,  and  the  many  addresses  presented  on  this 
subject,"  ordered  that  "the  number  of  the  deputies 
to  the  States-General  should  be  at  least  one  thousand, 
and  that  the  number  of  the  deputies  of  the  Third 
Estate  should  be  equal  to  that  of  the  clergy  and 
nobility  together."  When  the  news  of  this  royal 
declaration  became  known,  Paris  illuminated.  The 
monarchy  was  lost. 


XVIII. 

THE  PROCESSION   OF   MAY   4,    1789. 

FORTY  years  before  1789,  one  of  the  Ministers 
of  Foreign  Affairs  of  Louis  XV.,  the  Marquis 
d' Argenson,  wrote  these  prophetic  words :  "  There  pre- 
vails a  philosophic  wind  of  free  and  anti-monarchical 
government.  Possibly  the  revolution  will  meet  with 
less  opposition  than  is  expected  ;  it  may  take  place 
by  acclamation.  .  .  .  All  classes  are  discontented  at 
the  same  time  ;  a  riot  may  easily  grow  into  a  revolt, 
and  a  revolt  into  a  revolution,  in  which  there  would 
be  elected  tribunes  of  the  people,  comitia,  communes. 
.  .  .  The  whole  nation  would  take  fire ;  and  if  it 
became  necessary  to  assemble  the  States-General, 
these  states  would  not  assemble  in  vain.  It  will  be 
well  to  take  care." 

It  must  be  said  in  justice  to  Marie  Antoinette  that 
she  understood  that  the  summoning  of  the  States- 
General  would  be  fatal  to  royalty.  On  the  day  when 
she  learned  that  Louis  XVI.  had  decided  to  convoke 
them,  she  happened  to  be  coming  from  the  public 
dinner ;  she  detested  all  the  splendor,  which  was  at 
once  painful  to  her  eyes,  and  sought  refuge  in  her 

181 


182  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

bedroom,  where  she  stood  in  the  embrasure  of  the  first 
window,  gazing  into  the  park.  She  sent  for  Madame 
Campan,  and  said  to  her :  "  Heavens,  what  is  this  news 
we  hear  to-day  ?  The  King  has  permitted  the  States- 
General  to  be  summoned."  Then,  raising  her  eyes  to 
heaven,  she  added,  "  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  this 
important  event  is  a  gloomy  token  for  France."  And 
her  eyes,  filled  with  tears,  were  turned  to  the  ground. 

Marie  Antoinette  perceived  that  she  was  betrayed 
on  every  side.  The  clergy,  far  from  trying  to  appear 
as  a  mediator,  sought  only  to  encourage  the  opposi- 
tion, and  blindly  followed  a  few  restless,  stubborn, 
and  vain  bishops.  The  nobles,  a  feeble,  inharmo- 
nious body,  made  annoying  murmur,  as  the  Baron  of 
Besenval  expressed  it.  The  Anglomania  of  which 
the  young  men  and  the  women  were  the  victims 
turned  them  from  an  interest  in  horse-races  to  a  pas- 
sion for  politics.  Even  in  the  King's  ante-chamber 
the  most  seditious  utterances  were  heard. 

The  men  who  should  have  been  the  Queen's  most 
chivalrous  defenders,  such  as  the  Duke  of  Orleans, 
the  Duke  of  Lauzun,  the  Marquis  of  La  Fayette,  had 
become  her  foes.  She,  with  her  loyalty,  kindness, 
and  generosity,  was  amazed  at  human  ingratitude, 
and  nothing  could  explain  to  her  the  violent  and 
unjust  hatred  which  pursued  her.  Even  the  minis- 
ters, instead  of  supporting  the  throne,  only  weakened 
it.  Augeard  tells  us  in  his  interesting  Memoirs, 
that  the  Queen  said  to  him  in  May,  1789,  "Do  you 
think  that  M.  Necker  wishes  to  deceive  us?"     "I 


I 


THE  PROCESSION   OF  MAY  4,   1789.  183 

don't  know,  Madame,  that  M.  Necker  wishes  to  de- 
ceive us,  but  I  am  sure  that  he  deceives  himself. 
For  the  state,  it  is  exactly  the  same  thing."  "What ! 
M.  Necker  would  make  us  stake  our  kingdom  double 
or  quits  ?  "  "  Madame,  I  should  deem  you  lucky  in 
that  case ;  Your  Majesties  would  have  one  chance  in 
your  favor ;  now  I  don't  know  a  single  one."  "  Heav- 
ens, what  do  you  say  ? "  and  the  Queen  burst  into 
tears. 

Marie  Antoinette  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  States- 
General  should  meet  at  some  town  distant  sixty 
leagues  from  Paris,  instead  of  being  convoked  at 
Versailles.  Necker  successfully  opposed  this  wise 
opinion.  The  councillors  of  Louis  XVI.  had  reached 
the  highest  pitch  of  blindness  and  imprudence.  As 
the  Count  of  Vaublanc  said :  "  The  ministers  were 
ignorant  of  the  history  of  France,  or  they  would  have 
known  that  before  Louis  XVI.  no  king  had  conceded 
any  part  of  his  own  authority.  .  .  .  They  would 
have  remembered  that  when  Anne  of  Austria,  in  her 
regency,  desired  to  convoke  the  States-General,  the 
great  Cond^,  whom  she  consulted,  told  her  that 
a  prince  of  the  blood  ought  to  lose  his  life  before 
enduring  the  convocation  of  these  states  which  had 
wrought  so  much  harm  to  France." 

The  summoning  of  the  States-General  was,  alone, 
a  great  fault ;  but  what  rendered  this  fault  irremedi- 
able was  the  choice  of  Versailles  as  the  place  of 
meeting.  "  How,"  to  quote  from  the  Duke  of  L^vis, 
"  how  could  boldness  have  been  carried  so  far  as  to 


184  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

establish  an  assembly  to  control  the  destinies  of 
France,  and  one  in  which  so  much  preponderance 
had  been  given  to  the  popular  party,  at  a  distance 
of  four  leagues  from  the  capital,  which  was  a  centre 
of  intrigue  and  corruption,  and  crowded  with  a  pop- 
ulace excitable  and  open  to  bribery." 

The  lot  was  thrown.  These  States-General  which 
had  been  so  long  awaited,  which  were  regarded  as  an 
instrument  of  salvation,  as  a  universal  panacea,  were 
about  to  meet.  The  first  session  was  appointed  for 
May  5,  1789. 

A  great  religious  ceremony  opened  in  peace  the 
era  of  tempests.  There  Avas  a  solemn  procession 
which  took  place  the  evening  before  the  day  the 
Assembly  was  to  be  opened,  to  pray  for  the  blessings 
of  God  upon  their  work.  The  throne  and  the  altar, 
before  being  overthrown,  arrayed  themselves  in  ma- 
jestic pomp,  and  the  ancient  monarchy,  which  was 
doomed  to  perish  by  one  concession  after  another, 
appeared  once  more  with  the  prestige  and  ceremony 
of  its  venerable  glory. 

This  flame,  which  was  so  near  extinction,  was  scat- 
tering its  final  rays,  lighting  the  horizon  like  a  set- 
ting sun,  and  the  same  people  who  were  about  to 
utter  cries  of  fury  and  vile  blasphemies  against  their 
God  and  their  King,  still  sang  canticles,  and  walked 
piously  in  a  procession.  On  that  day  Robespierre 
himself  carried  a  candle. 

There  is  now  in  the  palace  of  Versailles  a  hall 
called  the  Hall  of  the  States-General,  and  is  so  called 


THE  PROCESSION   OF  3fAY  4,   1789.  185 

from  the  pictures  it  contains,  representing  these  as- 
semblies. Especially  noteworthy  is  a  long  and  fine 
frieze  painted  by  M.  Louis  Boulanger :  the  subject  is 
the  procession  of  May  4. 

At  ten  in  the  morning,  Louis  XVL,  clad  in  the 
royal  robes,  and  accompanied  by  the  princes  of  his 
family,  all  wearing  the  robes  of  the  different  orders, 
issued  from  his  apartment.  He  entered  a  state  car- 
riage with  the  Count  of  Provence  and  the  Count  of 
Artois.  At  the  coach  doors  were  the  young  Dukes 
of  Berry  and  Angouleme  and  the  Duke  of  Bourbon. 
The  Queen  was  in  another  carriage.  The  princesses 
and  the  princes  of  the  blood  came  next.  This  mag- 
nificent procession  was  to  go  to  the  church  of  Notre 
Dame.  After  a  short  prayer,  the  procession  began 
to  form,  headed  by  the  banners  of  the  two  parishes  : 
that  of  Notre  Dame  in  front,  next  that  of  Saint  Louis. 
Then  came  the  Recollects,  followed  by  the  parish 
clergy.  After  them  marched  the  deputies  of  the 
Third  Estate,  in  two  parallel  lines,  each  one,  like  all 
in  the  procession,  carrying  a  candle.  They  were 
dressed  in  black,  with  a  little  silk  cloak,  a  cravat  of 
white  muslin,  a  three-cornered  hat  without  edging  or 
buttons.  After  the  Third  Estate  came  the  nobility. 
The  deputies  wore  a  very  rich  dress,  —  a  black  cloak 
with  a  gold  facing,  a  lace  cravat,  white  silk  stock- 
ings, and  a  hat  with  white  feathers,  turned  up  like 
that  in  which  Henri  IV.  is  always  represented. 
Then  followed  the  deputies  of  the  clergy,  in  two 
files,   separated   by   the    royal  musicians,   the  body- 


186  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

guard  and  the  Swiss  soldiers.  In  front  were  the 
deputies  of  the  town  clergy ;  behind  them,  near  the 
canopy  under  which  was  the  Holy  Sacrament,  marched 
cardinals,  archbishops,  and  bishops.  The  canopy  was 
carried  by  the  high  officers  and  gentlemen  of  honor 
of  the  King's  two  brothers.  The  front  strings  were 
held  by  the  Dukes  of  Angoul^me  and  of  Berry ;  the 
hind  ones,  by  the  Counts  of  Provence  and  of  Artois. 
Under  the  canopy,  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  carried 
the  Holy  Sacrament.  The  King  was  among  the  high 
officers  of  the  crown,  in  the  middle  of  the  two  files 
following  the  canopy.  The  Queen  was  at  the  head 
of  the  left-hand  file,  in  which  w^ere  the  princesses  and 
their  ladies.  The  right-hand  file  was  composed  of 
princes  of  the  blood,  dukes,  and  peers.  At  the  head 
marched  the  Duke  of  Chartres  (later  Louis  Philippe). 
He  was  followed  by  the  Prince  of  Cond^,  the  Duke 
of  Bourbon,  the  Duke  of  Enghien,  the  Prince  of 
Conti.  Then  came  the  dukes  and  peers.  The  French 
and  Swiss  guards  were  drawn  up  in  line  from  the 
church  of  Notre  Dame,  where  the  procession  started, 
to  the  church  of  Saint  Louis,  whither  it  proceeded. 
The  way  was  strewn  with  flowers,  rich  stuffs,  and  the 
crown  tapestries  decorated  the  streets.  The  crowd 
was  enormous.  A  magnificent  spring  sun  lit  up  this 
festival  of  church  and  crown.  Those  of  the  princes 
who  were  too  young  to  take  part  in  the  procession 
were  allowed  to  look  at  it.  The  Dauphin  was  in  the 
great  stables ;  the  Duke  of  Normandy  (Louis  XYII.) 
and   Madame   Royale  (the  Duchess  of  Angouleme) 


THE  PROCESSION   OF  MAT  4,    1789.  187 

were  at  the  windows  of  a  house  in  the  rue  de  la  Pa- 
roisse  Saint  Louis,  opposite  the  pavilion  Beauregard. 
Starting  from  the  church  of  Notre  Dame,  through 
the  rue  Dauphine,  the  Place  d'Armes,  the  rue  Sa- 
tory,  the  rue  de  I'Orangerie,  the  rue  de  la  Paroisse 
Saint  Louis,  —  that  is  the  route  of  the  procession. 

The  sight  of  the  Holy  Sacrament,  the  religious 
pomp,  the  pious  songs,  the  odor  of  the  flowers  and  of 
the  incense,  the  cheering  sunlight,  gave  hope  for  a 
brief  moment  to  the  heart  of  Marie  Antoinette,  who 
warmly  prayed  God  for  a  good  result  to  France. 
Suddenly,  ominous  clamors  aroused  the  gloomiest 
presentiments.  The  Queen,  as  she  passed,  heard 
some  women  of  the  people,  those  who  later,  doubt- 
less, used  to  knit  at  the  foot  of  the  guillotine,  crying 
out,  "  Long  live  the  Duke  of  Orleans !  "  with  such 
evident  ill-feeling  that  she  turned  pale  and  nearly 
fainted.  She  was  supported  by  some  of  her  suite, 
who  feared  for  a  moment  that  it  would  be  necessary 
to  stop  the  procession.  But  the  courageous  sovereign, 
for  whom  the  future  had  so  many  trials  in  reserve, 
soon  recovered  herself.  The  procession  reached  the 
church  of  Saint  Louis,  where  mass  was  said.  Like 
the  Divine  Master,  whose  sacrifice  was  commemo- 
rated, the  pious  Louis  XVI.  was  to  have  his  Calvary. 
On  his  return  to  the  palace  he  was  greeted  by  an 
enthusiastic  crowd.  Hosannahs  still  sounded;  but 
soon  the  "  Let  him  be  crucified  "  was  to  be  heard. 


XIX. 

THE   OPENING   SESSION   OF   THE   STATES-GENERAL. 

MAY  5th  opened  the  most  famous  assembly  of 
modern  times,  —  one  which  put  an  end  to  the 
old  regime  and  began  a  new  world.  From  early- 
morning  Versailles  was  in  a  turmoil ;  everywhere  it 
was  felt  that  a  solemn  event  was  about  to  begin. 

Let  us  take  a  look  at  the  assembly-room  before  the 
arrival  of  the  deputies.  The  place  is  that  in  which 
the  Notables  used  to  sit,  —  the  H6tel  des  Menus  Plai- 
sirs,  near  the  palace,  in  the  Avenue  de  Paris,  at  the 
corner  of  the  rue  Saint  Martin.  The  room  is  twenty 
feet  broad  and  fifty-seven  long,  and  is  surrounded 
with  fluted  Ionic  columns  without  pedestals.  In  the 
ceiling  there  is  an  oval  opening,  and  the  light  which 
comes  through  this  passes  through  a  screen  of  white 
silk.  In  the  aisles  benches  have  been  arranged  for 
the  spectators,  and  at  a  certain  height  there  are  bays 
with  balustrades.  At  the  end  of  the  hall  rises  a  plat- 
form for  the  King  and  the  court ;  it  is  semicircular, 
and  is  elevated  a  few  feet,  and  covered  with  a  carpet 
of  violet  velvet  with  gold  fleurs  de  lis ;  above  it  is  a 
grand  canopy,  with  its  rim  fastened  to  the  columns. 

188 


OPENING   OF  THE  STATES-GENERAL.         189 

The  throne  stands  under  a  magnificent  baldaquin 
decorated  with  long  golden  fringes.  To  the  left  are 
a  large  armchair  for  the  Queen,  and  stools  for  the 
princesses;  to  the  right  were  camp-stools  for  the 
princes ;  at  the  foot  of  the  throne,  to  the  left,  was  an 
armchair  for  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals ;  to  the  right, 
a  camp-stool  for  the  High  Chamberlain ;  at  the  foot  of 
the  platform,  a  bench  and  a  large  table  for  the  Secre- 
taries of  State ;  on  each  side  of  this  table  are  benches 
reserved  for  the  fifteen  Councillors  of  State  and  the 
twenty  Masters  of  Requests  invited  to  the  meeting, 
as  well  as  for  the  Governors  and  Lieutenants-General 
of  the  provinces.  Running  lengthwise  in  the  hall 
are  other  benches  —  those  on  the  right,  for  the  depu- 
ties of  the  clergy ;  those  on  the  left,  for  the  deputies 
of  the  nobility ;  at  the  end,  opposite  the  throne,  for 
the  deputies  of  the  Third  Estate.  The  floor  is  cov- 
ered with  handsome  carpets  from  the  Savonnerie 
factory. 

The  meeting  was  to  open  at  one  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon. At  nine  in  the  morning  every  gallery,  every 
bench,  was  occupied.  Two  thousand  persons  were  in 
their  places.  With  the  exception  of  the  tribune  set 
apart  for  the  diplomatic  body,  all  the  front  benches 
were  reserved  for  ladies,  who  all  wore  their  finest 
dresses. 

Between  nine  and  ten  the  Marquis  of  Dreux-Brdz^ 
and  two  masters  of  ceremonies  began  to  arrange  the 
deputies  in  their  places  according  to  their  bailiwicks. 
This   took   two    hours.      Necker's    appearance    was 


190  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

greeted  with  a  round  of  applause.  Two  other  rounds 
broke  forth  when  the  Duke  of  Orleans  was  seen 
entering  with  the  deputies  of  Cr^py-en-Valois,  and 
insisting  that  the  cure  of  the  deputation  should  enter 
before  him.  The  nobles  wore  a  black  cloak  with 
gold  stuff,  and  a  cocked  hat  d  la  Henri  IV.  Their 
splendor  presented  a  marked  contrast  with  the  modest 
and  colorless  dress  which  etiquette  demanded  to  be 
worn  by  the  deputies  of  the  Third  Estate,  who  ap- 
peared, with  a  sort  of  defiant  humility,  in  black  coats, 
short  cloaks,  and  hats  without  bands  or  buttons.  The 
cardinals  wore  their  red  caps ;  the  archbishops  and 
bishops,  in  the  front  row  of  the  benches  destined  for 
the  clergy,  appeared  in  rochets,  camails,  square  caps, 
and  violet  cassocks.  The  deputies  numbered  in  all 
1183 :  of  these  291  were  clergy ;  270,  nobles ;  and  622, 
of  the  Third  Estate.  The  King-at-Arms  and  the  four 
heralds,  dressed  in  armor,  were  stationed  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  hall.  Sentinels,  under  arms,  stood  in 
each  tribune,  and  in  every  place  between  the  columns. 
When  all  had  found  their  place,  the  King  and 
Queen  were  notified,  and  they  at  once  made  their  en- 
trance, accompanied  by  their  suite.  The  moment  the 
King  appeared,  the  whole  assembly  arose  and  broke 
into  enthusiastic  applause  ;  cries  of  "  Long  live  the 
King!"  burst  forth  on  all  sides.  This  tumultuous 
uproar  was  followed  by  a  long  and  respectful  silence 
so  long  as  Louis  XVI.  remained  standing  while  the 
court  took  their  places.  General  admiration  was  felt 
for  the  calmness  of  this  good  and  generous  monarch's 


OPENING   OF  THE  STATES-GENERAL.         191 

expression,  for  the  confidence  it  wore,  and  for  his 
majestic  and  paternal  air.  The  Queen  seemed  less 
easy;  but  her  somewhat  pensive  and  anxious  face 
was  lit  up  by  a  few  smiles  before  the  warm  greeting 
of  the  three  orders. 

Louis  XVI.  wore  his  royal  robes,  and  a  hat  with 
feathers  and  ribbons,  adorned  with  diamonds.  He 
raised  his  hat  for  a  moment,  put  it  on  again,  and  then 
read  with  much  dignity  a  speech  which  reflected  all 
the  noble  feelings  that  animated  his  heart.  Every- 
thing which  could  be  hoped  for  from  the  tenderest 
interest  for  the  public  happiness,  everything  which 
could  be  demanded  of  a  sovereign,  the  first  friend  of 
his  people,  could  be  expected  of  their  King  by  the 
deputies  of  the  three  orders.  This  speech,  which  was 
read  with  perfect  ease  and  a  lofty  air,  was  frequently 
interrupted  by  applause.  At  that  moment  Louis 
XVI.,  in  the  consciousness  of  his  honesty  and  of  his 
loyal  and  pure  intentions,  doubtless  imagined  that 
France  was  capable  of  understanding  him. 

After  the  King,  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals  spoke, 
recalling  all  the  sacrifices  His  Majesty  had  made,  and 
was  still  ready  to  make,  to  establish  the  general  hap- 
piness on  the  basis  of  public  liberty.  Then  it  was 
Necker's  turn.  The  reading  of  his  report  took  three 
hours ;  it  was  listened  to  with  the  deepest  attention. 

There  is  now  to  be  seen  at  Versailles  a  fine  picture, 
painted  by  M.  Auguste  Conder,  which  represents 
the  session  we  have  just  described.  The  moment 
selected   by  the   artist  is  that  in  which  Necker  is 


192  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

standing  before  the  ministerial  bench,  delivering  his 
speech.  In  front,  to  the  left,  are  to  be  seen,  among 
the  deputies  of  the  clergy,  Saint-Aulaire,  Bishoj) 
of  Poictiers ;  Lefranc  de  Pompignan,  Archbishop  of 
Vienne;  Boisgelin,  Archbishop  of  Aix;  and  Talley- 
rand, Bishop  of  Aiitun.  To  the  right,  in  front  of 
the  Third  Estate,  sits  Boissenot,  deputy  from  Bor- 
deaux ;  in  the  next  row,  Bailly ;  in  the  third,  the 
Breton  workingman  Gerard,  deputy  from  Rennes ;  in 
the  fourth,  Barnave  and  Robespierre ;  in  the  fifth, 
Chappelier;  further  still,  Mirabeau,  and  near  him, 
the  Abbd  Siey^s ;  and  finally,  on  the  last  bench,  to 
the  extreme  right,  Rabaud  de  Saint-Etienne,  Kauff- 
mann,  and  Duport.  At  the  end  is  the  place  for  the 
deputies  of  the  nobility,  where  are  to  be  distinguished 
the  Duke  of  Rochechouart,  the  Marquis  of  La  Fay- 
ette, Casalds,  the  Duke  of  Richelieu,  the  Duke  of 
Liancourt.  In  front  of  the  three  orders  is  Louis 
XVL,  seated  on  his  throne;  on  his  left  are  Marie 
Antoinette,  Madame  Elisabeth,  Madame  Adelaide, 
Madame  Victoire ;  on  his.  right,  the  Count  of  Prov- 
ence (Louis  XVIIL),  the  Count  of  Artois  (Charles 
X.),  the  Duke  of  Berry,  the  Duke  of  Angouleme,  the 
Duke  of  Chartres  (Louis  Philippe). 

When  the  ceremony  was  over,  the  King  rose  and 
remained  standing  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  His 
Majesty  departed  amid  the  applause  of  the  whole 
assembly,  and  cries  of  "  Long  live  the  Queen ! " 
mingled  with  cries  of  "  Long  live  the  King !  " 

Optimists  imagined  that   everything   was   saved; 


OPENING   OF  THE  STATES-GENERAL.         193 

wiser  heads  thought  all  was  lost.  Madame  de  Stael, 
who  was  m  the  gallery  with  Madame  de  Montmorin, 
the  wife  of  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  expressed 
her  delight  and  her  hopes  for  the  country.  "You 
have  no  reason  to  feel  happy,"  answered  the  Minister's 
wife ;  "  from  all  this  there  will  issue  great  disasters 
to  France  and  to  ourselves."  Madame  de  Montmorin 
was  right:  her  husband  was  slain  at  I'Abbaye  in 
1792 ;  she  herself  and  her  son  were  guillotined. 

At  last  the  States-General,  who  opposed  to  the 
King  what  they  called  the  Nation,  were  invested  with 
terrible  powers.  The  real  nation  was  with  the  King, 
whom  it  loved  and  honored,  whose  loyalty,  kindness, 
and  virtue  it  esteemed  and  admired.  But  there  were 
a  few  ambitious  spirits  who,  in  the  hope  of  imposing 
upon  public  opinion,  were  determined  to  try  to  have 
it  believed  that  a  handful  of  revolutionaries  was  the 
French  people.  The  unhappy  monarch  fell  blindly 
into  the  snare  which  his  enemies  had  laid  for  him. 
Marie  Antoinette,  charming,  affable,  and  amiable, 
flattered  herself  perhaps  that  she  would  be  able,  by 
the  charm  of  persuasion,  to  bring  back  to  kindlier  feel- 
ings those  who  had  strayed  away ;  but  this,  alas !  was 
an  error.  Nothing  can  correct  or  improve  men  of 
bad  faith.  The  Queen  soon  perceived  the  singular 
malevolence  to  the  royal  family  and  the  court  which 
the  deputies  had  brought  from  their  provinces. 
She  heard,  with  amazement,  their  strange  questions 
about  the  King's  alleged  intemperance  and  the  Asiatic 
luxury  of  the  Trianon.     Since  the  simplicity  of  this 


194  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

country-seat,  which  was  far  less  sumptuous  than  many 
bankers'  houses,  did  not  correspond  with  the  idea 
which  certain  deputies  had  formed  of  it,  they  main- 
tained, when  visiting  the  Little  Trianon,  which  was 
the  subject  of  a  number  of  stupid  fables,  that  the 
most  extravagantly  furnished  rooms  were  closed  to 
them.  They  insisted  on  being  shown  an  imaginary 
drawing-room,  which  they  said  was  decorated  with 
diamonds,  and  with  twisted  columns  covered  with 
rubies  and  sapphires.  The  Queen  of  France  was 
compelled  to  be  civil  to  these  uneducated  and  mali- 
cious men.  She  did  the  honors  of  Versailles  with 
exquisite  grace,  and  with  untiring  kindness,  talked 
with  them  about  their  families  and  their  local  inter- 
ests. There  were  some  deputies  who  puritanically 
refused  to  go  to  court.  They  were  soon  to  be  Repub- 
licans, if  they  were  not  already.  They  lodged  at 
Versailles,  in  the  houses  of  revolutionary  citizens, 
who,  from  stupidity  or  jealousy,  retailed  the  most 
ridiculous  stories,  the  vilest  calumnies  about  the 
Queen.  Other  deputies,  to  be  sure,  expressed  to  her 
devotion  and  respect,  but  a  secret  instinct  told  her 
that  whatever  she  might  do,  she  was  a  marked  vic- 
tim of  fate.  At  times  she  would  have  a  gleam  of 
hope,  and  her  natural  energy  would  inspire  her  with 
confidence  in  her  power  to  brave  every  peril  and 
avert  every  stroke  of  fate.  Soon,  however,  she  fell 
back  into  her  customary  anxiety,  and  she  felt  crushed, 
overwhelmed,  by  a  hand  of  iron.  She  saw  in  the 
future  a  bottomless  pit,  a  gulf  of  fire  and  blood,  to 


OPENING   OF  THE  STATES-GENERAL.         195 

which  all  concessions  were  swiftly  bearing  her. 
Something  told  her  that  while  to-day  resistance  was 
possible,  to-morrow  it  would  be  too  late.  But  every- 
thing stood  in  her  way,  —  her  husband's  weakness,  the 
ministers'  sophistries,  the  blindness  and  selfishness  of 
all  who  surrounded  her,  the  revolutionary  passions 
which  were  breaking  out  in  even  the  highest  ranks 
of  French  society.  What  could  she  hope  for  in  that 
situation?  What  can  a  woman,  however  generous 
and  brave  she  may  be,  do  against  a  combined  world  ? 


XX. 

THE  DEATH   OF   THE  DAUPHIN. 

EVER  since  the  opening  of  the  States-General, 
Marie  Antoinette  had  been  anxious  and  restless. 
Since  she  could  scarcely  sleep,  she  used  to  go  to  bed 
very  late  and  meditate  on  the  ever-serious  incidents 
of  the  day.  One  evening,  towards  the  end  of  May, 
the  unhappy  Queen  was  sitting  in  her  bedroom,  talk- 
ing with  Madame  Campan  about  the  morning  session. 
There  were  four  candles  burning  on  the  dressing- 
table.  One  went  out  of  itself ;  Madame  Campan  lit 
it  again.  Then  the  second,  and  soon  the  third  also, 
went  out.  Then  Marie  Antoinette,  clasping  in  alarm 
the  hand  of  her  faithful  companion,  exclaimed  :  "  Mis- 
fortune makes  me  superstitious.  If  the  fourth  candle 
goes  out  like  the  other  three,  nothing  can  prevent 
my  regarding  it  as  an  evil  omen  !  "  —  the  fourth  can- 
dle went  out. 

At  that  very  moment  a  terrible  blow  was  hanging 
over  the  Queen's  head :  she  was  about  to  lose  her  old- 
est son,  the  young  Dauphin,  whose  birth,  seven  years 
before,  had  filled  all  France  with  joy  and  congratu- 
lations. For  many  months  he  had  been  ailing.  While 

196 


THE  DEATH  OF  THE  DAUPHIN.  197 

apparently  in  flourisliing  health  he  was  suddenly 
attacked  by  the  rickets  which  curved  his  spine,  hol- 
lowed his  face,  and  made  his  legs  so  weak  that  he 
had  to  be  helped  in  walking,  like  an  infirm  old  man. 
His  suffering  and  exhaustion  were  omens  of  another 
death-struggle,  — that  of  the  monarchy. 

Already  in  the  previous  year,  Marie  Antoinette 
knew  the  catastrophe  which  threatened  her  as  queen 
and  as  a  mother.  When,  at  the  formal  reception  of 
the  ambassadors  of  Tippoo  Sahib  in  1788,  she  ap- 
peared on  her  grand  throne,  in  the  Hall  of  Hercules, 
majestic,  resplendent,  covered  with  the  richest  of  the 
court  jewels,  and  the  representatives  of  the  Asiatic 
monarch,  dazzled  by  the  more  than  Oriental  luxury, 
ecstatically  admired,  more  than  the  statues  and  pic- 
tures, more  than  the  silver  and  gold,  than  the  em- 
broideries and  diamonds  sparkling  everywhere,  the 
beauty  of  the  unrivalled  Queen,  —  this  proud  woman 
before  whom  every  one  was  prostrating  himself  as 
before  an  idol,  hid  beneath  her  diadem  the  crudest 
anxieties. 

From  this  reception  of  the  Asiatic  ambassadors, 
one  child  was  absent,  —  the  Dauphin.  The  young 
Prince  had  been  very  anxious  to  be  present,  but  he 
was  already  so  reduced  that  his  appearance  would 
have  made  a  painful  impression  on  the  company,  and 
Marie  Antoinette  was  unwilling  to  have  him  appear. 
And  so  at  the  very  moment  when  it  was  probably 
thought,  amid  all  this  pomp  and  show,  that  the  Queen 
of  France  and  Navarre  was  enjoying  to  the  full  the 


198  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

happiness  of  power  and  pride,  her  heart  was  torn  by 
keen  anguish.  She  knew  that  the  heir  of  this  mighty 
throne  was  condemned,  and  beneath  her  crown  this 
poor  mother  and  hapless  queen  felt  iron  nails  that 
pierced  her  brow.  Does  it  not  seem  as  if  every  one 
who  entered  the  palace  of  Versailles  was  cursed  by 
fate  ?  The  Indian  ambassadors  were  put  to  death 
by  their  master,  and  in  a  year  this  imposing  French 
court  was  broken  up.  These  great  lords  and  ladies 
were  forced  to  emigrate,  or  if  they  stayed  they  paid 
the  penalty  with  their  lives.  Grass  was  to  grow  on 
the  pavement  of  the  palace,  and  the  former  sanctuary 
of  the  absolute  monarchy  was  to  become  a  vast  sepul- 
chre. What  sadder  story  can  be  found  than  that  of 
the  Dauphin's  fate,  whose  baptism  was  celebrated 
January  21,  and  who  died  at  the  very  moment  when 
there  opened  an  assembly,  fatal  to  the  monarchy,  and 
whose  sufferings  were  a  sort  of  prelude  to  those  of 
his  brother,  the  martyred  child,  who  was  to  bear  the 
title  of  Louis  XVII.  ? 

Since  April  16,  1789,  the  young  invalid  had  been 
quartered  at  Meudon,  but  neither  the  wholesome  air 
of  this  place  nor  the  tender  care  which  encompassed 
him  could  prolong  his  life.  A  few  hours  before  his 
death,  he  asked  M.  de  Bousset,  his  valet  de  chambre, 
for  a  pair  of  scissors ;  he  then  cut  off  a  lock  of  his 
hair,  and  wrapped  it  up  carefully  in  a  piece  of  paper. 
"  See  here.  Monsieur,"  he  said  to  his  valet  de  chambre, 
whom  he  dearly  loved,  "  this  is -the  only  present  I  can 
make  to  you,  for  I  own  nothing  else :  but  when  I  am 


THE  DEATH  OF  THE  DAUPHIN.  199 

dead,  you  will  give  that  to  papa  and  mamma;  when 
they  remember  me,  I  hope  they  will  remember  you." 
The  child  died  at  the  age  of  seven  years  and  seven 
months,  in  the  night  of  June  4,  1789,  one  month  to 
a  day  after  the  opening  of  the  States-General.     He 

[  drew  his  last  breath  in  the  arms  of  his  mother,  to 
whom  he  was  heard  to  say  that  he  only  suffered  at 
seeing  her  cry.  This  cruel  loss  broke  the  Queen's 
heart,  and  her  sufferings  turned  her  hair  white, 
though  she  was  but  thirty-four  years  old.  She  had 
her  portrait  painted  about  this  time ;  and  when  she 
gave  it  to  Madame  de  Lamballe,  she  wrote  under- 
neath, "  Unhappiness  has  turned  her  hair  white." 

^h  June  5,  the*  body  of  the  Dauphin  was  exposed  in 
the  castle  of  Meudon,  on  a  state-bed.  The  8th,  the 
princes  of  the  blood  and  deputations  of  the  three 
orders  went  to  sprinkle  holy  water  in  the  coffin. 
The  13th,  the  heir  to  the  French  crown  was  buried  in 
the  Abbey  of  Saint  Denis  very  quietly,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  but  a  few  persons. 

Poor  boy !  He  was  lowered,  as  Bossuet  says,  to 
that  subterraneous  dwelling,  "to  sleep  in  the  dust 
with  the  great  of  the  earth,  with  the  vanished  kings 
and  princes  among  whom  there  is  hardly  room  for 
him,  so  close  are  the  ranks,  so  quick  is  death  to  fill 
the  gaps."  Alas !  the  quiet  of  his  grave  was  not  to 
be  defended  by  the  guard  of  kings,  his  ancestors,  who 
had  preceded  him  to  the  grave.  To  desecrate  a 
child's  tomb  -and  to  scatter  his  ashes  is  an  exploit 
befitting  the  heroism  of  Jacobins.     And  what  day  do 


200  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

they  choose  for  this  odious  task  ?  October  16,  1793, 
the  day  when  his  unhappy  mother,  who  had  so 
mourned  her  boy,  was  led  to  her  execution.  Yes,  at 
the  very  hour  when  Marie  Antoinette  bowed  her 
head  on  the  scaffold,  the  exhumers  of  kings  hastened 
to  Saint  Denis  to  tear  the  great  of  the  earth  from 
their  tombs,  to  melt  the  lead  of  their  coffins,  and  to 
throw  into  a  common  ditch  their  despoiled  bodies. 
In  this  sacrilegious  work  they  grew  jealous  of  death, 
and  like  vultures  disputed  their  prey ;  and  that  day 
they  profaned  among  other  graves  those  of  Henrietta 
of  England,  of  the  Princess  Palatine,  of  the  Regent, 
of  Louis  XV.  Compare  the  two  scenes,  —  the  scaf- 
fold of  Marie  Antoinette  and  this  desecration  of  the 
tombs  at  Saint  Denis,  —  with  the  transport  of  joy 
that,  twelve  years  before,  had  hailed  this  child's  birth 
and  greeted  his  mother's  happiness ;  then  ask  in  what 
romance,  however  gloomy  and  terrible,  you  can  find 
anything  more  moving  and  more  terrible  than  the 
contrast  between  such  realities. 


XXI. 

THE  ADVANCE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

THE  end  of  governments  is  seldom  a  natural 
one  ;  it  is  generally  a  suicide.  They  generally 
perish  because,  while  they  possess  the  force  of  right, 
they  hesitate  to  use  the  right  of  force.  A  sort  of 
madness  leads  them  to  lay  down  their  arms,  to  spike 
their  guns,  to  dismantle  their  fortresses,  and  to  sur- 
render, bound  hand  and  foot,  to  their  irreconcilable 
enemies.  Those  sovereigns  who  sacrifice  their  indis- 
pensable authority  to  necessary  liberties  are  like  the 
lion  in  love :  they  let  their  talons  be  clipped  and  their 
teeth  be  drawn.  Then  they  blame  others  for  faults 
which  in  fact  are  but  the  result  of  their  indecision 
and  weakness.  They  weaken  themselves,  forgetting 
that  the  first  duty  of  a  government  is  self-defence ; 
that  an  unpunished  riot  is  a  dishonor,  a  slap  in  the 
face  of  the  prince  who  endures  it ;  that  the  control 
of  order  should  outweigh  all  other  considerations, 
and  that  it  is  a  cruel  thing  to  let  many  thousand 
innocent  victims  perish  to  spare  a  few  criminals. 
There  are  circumstances  in  which  a  ruler  has  no  right 
to  withhold  punishment :  when  pity  is  only  weakness 

201 


202  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

and  humanity  simply  abdication.  No  monarch  who 
hesitates  in  face  of  a  revolt  deserves  to  rule.  What 
would  one  think  of  a  soldier  who  should  fear  to  use 
his  weapon  on  the  battle-field?     Politics  is  a  battle. 

An  honest  man,  whose  Memoirs,  Guizot  has  said, 
will  be  much  read,  though  less  than  they  deserve,  — 
Malouet,  the  last  politician,  according  to  Burke's 
expression,  to  watch  at  the  bedside  of  the  expiring 
monarchy,  —  says,  with  justice,  that  there  is  no  ex- 
cuse  for  the  ministers  of  Louis  XVI.  "  That  King," 
he  says,  "  had  a  just  mind,  which  would  have  made 
him  adopt  the  wise  combinations  proposed  to  him,  if, 
instead  of  showing  him  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
of  firmness,  they  had  convinced  him  of  their  neces- 
sity." 

And  how  could  the  ministers  reduce  him,  at  the 
end  of  1788,  to  a  real  suspension  of  his  royal  func- 
tions through  the  indecision  with  which  they  let  him 
approach  the  question  of  the  States-General  ?  It  was 
no  longer  the  King  who  spoke,  but  the  consulting 
attorney  of  the  crown,  asking  counsel  of  everybody, 
with  an  air  of  saying  to  every  man  he  met :  "  What 
must  I  do  ?  What  can  I  do  ?  What  part  of  my  au- 
thority is  it  desired  to  retrench  ?  What  will  be  left 
to  me?" 

M.  Charles  Aubertin  justly  says  in  his  excellent 
book,  L^ Esprit  public  au  dix-huitiime  siecle^  that  it 
took  Louis  XVL,  with  all  his  faults,  three  years  to 
bring  about  a  dethronement  which  was  mainly  his 
own  work,  and  that  he  took  all  this  time  to  descend 


THE  ADVANCE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.        203 

from  a  throne  from  which  now  one  falls  in  a  few 
hours.  At  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution  all 
Frenchmen,  even  Marat  and  Robespierre,  were  Royal- 
ists, and,  as  Michelet  has  remarked  with  truth,  the 
one  of  the  three  orders  most  favorable  to  royalty  was 
the  Third  Estate.  Mirabeau  announced  his  intention 
to  attack  the  bureaucratic  despotism  in  order  to  exalt 
the  royal  authority.  The  situation  was  in  no  way 
desperate. 

It  is  the  fashion  nowadays,  in  a  certain  historical 
school,  to  represent  accomplished  facts  as  the  conse- 
quence of  an  inevitable  fatality,  which  prudence,  wis- 
dom, and  genius  would  have  been  powerless  to  resist. 
To  us  nothing  seems  more  opposed,  not  merely  to 
the  freedom  of  the  will  and  to  human  dignity,  but 
also  to  the  philosophy  and  majesty  of  history,  than 
this  Mohammedan  fatalism  which  deprives  the  affairs 
of  this  world  of  their  interest  and  moral  value.  In 
our  opinion  M.  Aubertin  is  right  in  saying,  "  How 
frivolous  to  believe  that  events  which  have  never 
been  resisted,  that  unrestrained  and  unscrupulous 
passions,  would  have  followed  the  same  course  if  a 
firm  will  had  undertaken  to  direct  and  control  them ! " 
We  agree  with  M.  de  Montlosier  in  thinking  that, 
with  such  aid  as  was  afforded  by  the  conduct  of 
Louis  XVI.,  the  upheaval  might  have  taken  place  in 
even  the  richest  and  most  prosperous  kingdom  in  the 
world.  The  Count  of  Vaublanc  completes  the  accu- 
racy of  this  remark  by  an  axiom  which  is  thoroughly 
confirmed  by  the  history  of  the  nineteenth  century: 


204  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

"  In  France  it  is  always  the  ruler  and  his  ministers 
who  overthrow  the  government." 

Malouet  accurately  judged  the  faults  of  the  mar- 
tyred King  when  he  said :  "  Between  the  King  and 
his  council  there  was  an  alternation  of  mistakes  about 
everything  which  might  be  regarded  as  a  prudent 
or  a  vigorous  measure.  Thus  the  King,  who  had  a 
passive  courage,  felt  a  certain  shame  about  leaving 
Versailles ;  he  was  perfectly  conscious  of  the  danger, 
but  he  hoped  to  avoid  it  by  a  display  of  strength. 
When  it  was  necessary  to  use  it,  he  could  not  decide 
to  draw  his  sword  on  his  subjects.  I  linger  with 
regret  on  this  unhappy  monarch's  faults  ;  for,  with 
his  kind  heart,  he  deserved  a  different  fate :  there 
was  a  certain  captain  of  the  grenadiers  who  would 
have  saved  him  if  he  would  have  let  him." 

Louis  would  have  been  puzzled  if  he  had  been 
asked  exactly  what  it  was  he  wanted.  He  wavered 
between  the  nobility  and  the  Third  Estate,  between 
the  old  regime  and  the  new.  All  his  actions  and 
all  his  words  were  full  of  humanity,  kindness,  and 
justice.  He  was  a  philanthropist,  an  honest  and  a 
virtuous  man,  but  he  was  not  a  king.  The  prey  of 
the  illusions  of  a  period  given  up  to  vain  dreams,  he 
could  not  believe  in  evil,  and  he  judged  others  by 
himself. 

As  for  Marie  Antoinette,  who  was  justly  alarmed 
by  her  husband's  indecision,  her  position  was  most 
painful.  It  was  not  easy  for  her  to  urge  vigorous 
measures,  and  an  appeal  to  force  when  her  husband 


THE  ADVANCE  OF  THE  BEVOLUTION.        205 

was  all  weakness.  As  a  worthy  daughter  of  Maria 
Theresa,  she  naturally  inclined  to  energetic  decis- 
ions. She  would  have  liked  to  ride  before  her  troops ; 
but  this  was  impossible  when  Louis  XVI.  opposed 
every  demonstration  of  force,  and  was  absolutely 
unwilling  to  abandon  the  paternal  attitude  which 
suited  the  wishes  of  his  heart  and  his  instinctive 
tendencies. 

Meanwhile  the  peril  was  increasing  from  day  to 
day.  June  17,  1789,  the  Third  Estate,  with  some 
members  of  the  clergy,  announced  itself  to  be  the 
National  Assembly.  June  20,  the  deputies  found 
the  hall  in  which  they  met  closed  by  superior  order, 
and  they  went  to  the  Tennis  Court,  and  took  the 
famous  oath. 

June  23,  Louis  XVI.  published  an  order  establish- 
ing the  maintenance  of  the  three  orders,  and  com- 
manding the  deputies  to  separate.  At  the  same  time 
he  decreed  motu  propria  the  greatest  reforms,  —  the 
abolition  of  the  pecuniary  privileges  of  the  nobility 
and  the  clergy,  commercial  liberty,  the  establish- 
ment of  provincial  states,  and  a  number  of  innova- 
tions, each  more  liberal  than  the  others.  In  his 
speech  he  uttered  this  sentence  which  is  full  of 
noble  optimism :  "  I  can  frankly  say  that  never  has 
a  king  done  so  much  for  any  nation ;  but  what  other 
has  so  well  deserved  it  by  its  loyalty  as  the  French 
nation?"  And  he  closed  his  harangue  with  these 
words  :  "  If  you  desert  me  in  this  noble  undertaking, 
I  shall  alone  establish  the  welfare  of  my  people.     It 


206  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

is  possibly  a  rare  occurrence  for  the  monarch's  sole 
ambition  to  be  that  his  subjects  shall  agree  to  accept 
his  benefits." 

Six  months  earlier  this  declaration  would  have  met 
the  idea  and  the  desire  of  the  States-General ;  but  it 
came  too  late,  especially  when  the  government  had 
not  decided  to  put  an  end  to  the  Assembly.  This 
indecision  of  those  in  power  encouraged  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  Mirabeau  was  able  to  utter  to  the  Grand 
Master  of  Ceremonies  the  famous  phrase,  which  would 
have  been  impossible  a  few  weeks  before :  "  Go  tell 
your  master  that  we  are  here  by  the  power  of  the 
people,  and  that  we  shall  be  driven  away  only  by  the 
force  of  bayonets." 

To  save  the  crown  and  France  Louis  XVI.  had 
four  things  to  do,  —  to  acknowledge  of  his  own  will, 
by  virtue  of  his  sovereign  power,  what  are  called  the 
principles  of  1789  ;  to  dissolve  the  States-General ;  to 
exile  the  Duke  of  Orleans ;  to  have  the  rioters  shot. 
If  he  had  done  these  things,  Louis  XVI.  would  have 
been  a  great  man ;  but  he  preferred  to  be  a  victim. 
There  is  no  need  of  speaking  about  fatality;  the 
only  fatality  was  the  King's  weakness.  He  was 
the  author  of  his  own  fall. 

June  23,  the  unhappy  monarch  must  have  seen  the 
gulf  toward  which  all  his  concessions  were  driving 
him.  Necker,  who  was  always  desirous  of  popularity, 
had  refused  to  accompany  Louis  XVI.  to  the  royal 
meeting,  which,  in  the  eyes  of  Marie  Antoinette,  was 
an  act  of  treachery  or  of  cowardice.     Well,  at  the 


THE  ADVANCE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.        207 

very  moment  when  the  nobles  imagined  that  every- 
thing was  righted  by  the  sort  of  bed  of  justice  which 
the  King  had  just  held,  and  when  the  Queen,  holding 
her  son  in  her  arms  and  displaying  him  to  her  faith- 
ful servants,  indulged  in  a  blind  confidence,  outcries 
were  heard  in  the  palace  courtyard.  It  was  the 
crowd  calling  Necker,  and  noisily  congratulating  him 
on  not  having  taken  part  in  the  royal  meeting ;  then 
they  carried  him  home  in  triumph,  and  made  him 
appear  at  his  window  amid  frantic  applause.  The 
Queen  herself  entreated  Necker  not  to  resign  his 
portfolio.  The  true  King  of  France  was  no  longer 
Louis  XVI. :  it  was  the  Genevese  banker. 

In  Paris,  disorder  grew  steadily.  The  populace, 
allured  by  bribery,  prepared  for  the  approaching  in- 
surrection. At  the  Palais  Royal,  which  had  become 
a  hotbed  of  anarchy,  the  most  incendiary  motions  fol- 
lowed one  another  without  interruption. 

June  30,  rioters  broke  open  the  prison  of  the 
Abbaye,  and  set  free  several  of  the  French  guard  who 
were  confined  for  insubordination.  At  last  Louis 
XVI.  seemed  to  awake  from  his  torpor.  In  accord- 
ance with  the  advice  of  the  Queen,  and  of  the  ma- 
jority of  the  ministers,  six  thousand  men  were  can- 
toned in  the  Champ  de  Mars.  Twelve  thousand 
men  were  encamped  at  Versailles  and  in  the  suburbs 
of  Paris.  The  Marshal  of  Broglie  was  put  in  com- 
mand of  the  troops.  He  established  his  headquarters 
in  the  palace  of  Versailles,  and  turned  the  garden 
into  a  camp.     His  ante-chamber  was  crowded  with 


208        .  MARIE  ANTOINETTE, 

orderlies  and  officers  ready  for  service.  He  had  put 
a  regiment  in  the  Orange  House.  The  royal  party 
was  divided  into  a  group  of  optimists  and  a  group  of 
alarmists ;  while  these  last  thought  everything  lost, 
the  others  spoke  with  scorn  of  the  masses  of  the 
populace,  saying  that  "one  need  only  pull  down 
his  hat  over  his  eyes  to  disperse  them,  and  that 
when  the  time  had  come,  one  did  not  know  how  to 
pull  down  his  hat."  Louis  XVI.  did  not  know  to 
which  side  to  listen.  His  brothers  counselled  vig- 
orous action ;  Necker  dissuaded  him  from  it.  Every 
regiment  that  arrived  gave  the  Genevese  minister 
more  annoyance.  As  the  Baron  of  Besenval  reports, 
"  Every  argument  which  was  brought  up  to  him  fell 
to  the  ground  before  the  possible  anger  of  the  National 
Assembly." 

There  was  a  lack  of  harmony  between  the  Marshal 
of  Broglie,  in  command  at  Versailles,  and  his  subor- 
dinate, the  Baron  of  Besenval,  in  command  of  Paris. 
A  fatal  blunder  had  been  made  in  leaving  in  gar- 
rison in  the  capital  the  regiment  of  French  guards 
who  had  been  corrupted  by  the  revolutionary  prop- 
aganda. Confusion  was  wide-spread.  The  troops, 
perceiving  that  they  were  insufficiently  led,  and  the 
police,  perceiving  *that  they  were  not  properly  sup- 
ported, became  demoralized.  It  was  not  a  camp  of 
six  thousand  men  that  should  have  been  established 
in  Paris,  but  one  of  sixty  thousand.  No  preparations 
were  made  to  defend  the  Bastille,  and  there  was  not 
a  single  regiment  to  protect  the  arsenal  of  the  H6tel 


THE  ADVANCE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.        209 

des  Invalides.  The  ministers  of  Louis  XVI.,  as 
weak  in  strategy  as  in  politics,  were  incompetent  to 
take  the  most  rudimentary  precautionary  measures. 

July  11,  the  King  perceived,  a  little  late,  the  errors 
into  which  Necker  had  led  him.  He  urged  that 
minister  to  leave  without  telling  any  one  of  his 
departure.  Necker  obeyed,  and  at  once  betook  him- 
self to  Switzerland,  not  even  informing  his  daugh- 
ter. The  Marshal  of  Broglie  entered  the  new  minis- 
try. But  the  military  measures  were  so  incomplete 
and  clumsy,  the  number  of  the  troops  was  so  small, 
the  dread  of  shedding  the  blood  of  the  rioters  had  so 
paralyzed  the  government,  such  scandalous  impunity 
had  been  accorded  to  the  revolutionary  doings  of  the 
Palais  Royal,  every  arm  of  power  had  been  so  weak- 
ened, that  the  catastrophe  broke  forth. 

Malouet  says  very  truly :  "  The  Reign  of  Terror, 
which  was  not  proclaimed  by  the  pui-e  Republicans 
till  1793,  will  be  acknowledged  by  every  impartial 
man  to  have  begun  in  1789.  The  first  club  of  the 
Palais  Royal  (the  club  of  Valois,  of  which  Siey^s,  then 
a  partisan  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  was  one  of  the 
founders),  and  then  the  Breton  Club,  which  became 
the  Jacobin  Club,  were  the  inventors  of  this  infernal 
machine,  which  might  easily  have  been  destroyed 
before  it  exploded."  But  what  could  be  expected 
of  a  government  that  let  the  troops  be  attacked  with 
insulting  language,  stones,  and  pistol-shots,  "  while 
the  soldiers  made  no  threatening  gestures  in  reply, 
so  great  was  their  respect  for  the  order  not  to  shed  a 


210  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

single  drop  of  citizens'  blood  "  ?  The  capture  of  the 
Bastille,  so  vaunted  by  the  Revolution,  was  no  diffi- 
cult feat.  That  famous  fortress  was  garrisoned  by 
only  a  hundred  soldiers,  almost  all  disabled,  and  there 
was  not  a  single  regiment  to  defend  its  approaches. 

The  insurrection  had  begun  July  12.  The  troops 
who  had  assembled  that  day  in  the  Place  Louis  XV. 
were  thoroughly  discouraged  when  they  saw  that 
their  commanders  would  not  let  them  use  their  weap- 
ons. Neither  the  police  nor  the  army  could  save  a 
government  against  its  will.  The  13th,  the  gun-sel- 
lers' shops  were  pillaged,  and  the  Paris  militia  was 
organized,  which  was  to -become  the  National  Guard. 
The  morning  of  the  14th,  the  rioters  had  taken  all 
the  arms  from  the  H6tel  des  Invalides,  which  was 
entirely  without  means  of  defence.  "  The  disorder 
grew  from  hour  to  hour,"  says  the  Baron  of  Besenval, 
"  and  my  embarrassment  also  increased.  What  plan 
was  to  be  followed  ?  If  I  should  let  my  troops  get 
engaged  in  Paris,  I  should  start  civil  war.  .  .  .  Ver- 
sailles neglected  me  in  this  cruel  situation.  ...  I  de- 
cided that  the  wisest  course  was  to  withdraw  the 
troops  and  leave  Paris  to  itself."  The  14th,  there 
were  three  Swiss  regiments  still  encamped  in  the 
Champ  de  Mars,  with  eight  hundred  mounted  men, 
hussars,  and  dragoons.  The  prevailing  opinion  of  the 
general  officers  who  were  assembled  at  the  Military 
School  was  that  nothing  of  importance  could  be  accom- 
plished by  so  small  a  force.  While  at  the  other  end 
of  Paris  the  rioters  were  taking  possession  of  the 


THE  ADVANCE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.        211 

Bastille,  the  troops  did  not  stir.  That  evening  they 
withdrew  to  Sevres,  in  accordance  with  the  orders  of 
the  Marshal  of  Broglie. 

What  was  going  on  at  Versailles  while  the  army 
was  thus  retreating  before  the  Revolution  ?  The 
previous  evening  the  Assembly  had  begun  a  session 
which  was  to  last  sixty  consecutive  hours  amid  con- 
fusion and  alarm.  It  was  rumored  that  the  King  was 
preparing  to  flee  ;  that  the  Queen,  the  Duchess  of 
Polignac,  and  the  princes  had  been  seen  in  the 
Orange  House,  distributing  food  to  the  officers  and 
men;  that  in  the  night  of  the  14th,  Paris  was  to 
be  attacked  at  seven  points,  the  Palais  Royal  sur- 
rounded, and  the  National  Assembly  dissolved. 
News  came  of  the  attack  upon  the  Bastille,  and 
every  one  listened  to  hear  the  distant  roar  of  the 
cannon.  The  Assembly,  in  terror,  sent  to  the  King- 
one  deputation  after  another.  To  the  first  Louis 
XVI.  made  reply  that  he  had  just  ordered  the  with- 
drawal of  the  troops  from  the  Champ  de  Mars,  and 
that  having  been  informed  of  the  formation  of  the 
Civic  Guard,  he  had  appointed  officers  to  command  it. 
To  the  second  he  said :  "  Gentlemen,  you  wring  my 
heart  more  and  more  by  what  you  tell  me  concerning 
the  unhappy  events  in  Paris.  It  is  impossible  that 
the  orders  given  to  my  troops  should  be  the  cause." 
The  Bastille  had  been  captured,  July  14,  at  half-past 
five  in  the  evening,  and  Louis  XVI.  had  gone  to  bed 
before  any  one  had  consented  to  break  the  fatal  news 
to  him.     It  was  his  faithful  officer,  the  Duke  of  Lian- 


212  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

court,  Grand-Master  of  the  Wardrobe,  who,  in  spite  of 
the  ministers,  woke  him  up  and  told  him  what  had 
happened.  "  What  a  revolt !  "  exclaimed  the  King. 
"  Sire,"  replied  the  Duke,  ''  say  rather,  what  a 
revolution ! " 


XXII. 

THE   DEPARTURE   OF   THE  DUCHESS   OF   POLIGNAC. 

THE  Bastille  had  just  been  taken.  The  insur- 
gents who  had  conquered  without  a  struggle, 
imagined  that  the  next  day  they  would  be  confronted 
by  an  imposing  force,  and  did  not  dare  to  shoAV  them- 
selves. Versailles  intimidated  Paris,  and  Paris  intim- 
idated Versailles.  There  were  still  many  regiments 
on  whose  fidelity  Louis  XVI.  could  absolutely  count. 
Nothing  would  have  been  easier  for  him  than  to 
withdraw  to  a  fortified  city  at  some  distance  from 
the  capital,  and  there  to  speak  like  a  king.  But  it 
was  in  vain  that  Marie  Antoinette  counselled  ener- 
getic measures ;  he  preferred  dismissing  the  troops 
and  playing  a  sentimental  part  before  the  Assembly. 
He  appeared  there  on  the  morning  of  the  15th,  with 
no  escort  or  guards,  accompanied  only  by  his  two 
brothers. 

Standing  bareheaded,  with  no  sign  of  pomp,  with- 
out even  using  the  armchair  placed  on  the  platform, 
the  heir  of  Louis  XV.  seemed  to  be  begging  forgive- 
ness of  the  subjects  who  had  defied  his  authority. 
"  You  were  afraid,"  he  said ;  "  well,  it  is  I  who  have 

213 


214  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

confidence  in  you."  His  speech  was  simple  and 
touching.  The  deputies  applauded  the  amiable  mon- 
arch, and  accompanied  him  on  foot  to  the  palace. 
The  courtyards  were  filled  with  a  vast  throng.  They 
asked  the  King,  Queen,  and  their  children  to  appear 
on  the  balcony.  Marie  Antoinette  asked  Madame 
Campan  to  fetch  the  Dauphin.  The  Duchess  of 
Polignac,  the  governess  of  the  royal  children,  under- 
stood that  she  was  not  to  accompany  the  young 
Prince,  and  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Madame  Campan, 
what  a  blow  I  have  received !  "  Then  she  kissed  the 
Dauphin  and  withdrew  to  her  own  room,  in  tears. 

After  taking  the  child  to  the  Queen,  Madame 
Campan  went  down  into  the  courtyard.  Threatening 
words  were  spoken  there  with  sullen  wrath.  "I 
know  you  very  well,"  muttered  one  veiled  woman. 
"  Tell  our  Queen  not  to  meddle  with  the  government. 
Let  her  leave  her  husband  and  the  good  States-Gen- 
eral to  make  the  happiness  of  the  people."  "  Yes, 
yes!"  exclaimed  a  man  dressed  like  a  produce  por- 
ter, "  tell  her  that  these  States  are  not  like  the  others, 
which  were  of  no  use ;  that  the  country  is  too  intelli- 
gent not  to  get  some  good  from  them ;  and  that  there 
will  not  be  a  single  deputy  of  the  Third  Estate  to 
speak  with  one  knee  on  the  ground.  Tell  her  that 
—  do  you  understand  ?  " 

At  that  moment  the  Queen  appeared  on  the  bal- 
cony above  the  marble  courtyard.  "  Ah !  "  said  the 
veiled  woman,  "  the  Duchess  of  Polignac  isn't  with 
her."    "  No,"  added  the  man,  "  but  she's  still  at  Ver- 


THE  BEPABTUBE  OF  THE  DUCHESS.         215 

sailles.  She's  like  a  mole,  and  works  under  ground ; 
but  we  shall  know  how  to  get  a  spade  to  dig  her 
out." 

In  the  afternoon,  as  Madame  Campan  was  passing 
along  the  terrace  on  her  way  to  Madame  Victoire, 
she  saw  three  men  arrested  under  the  windows  of  the 
throne-room.  One  of  them  shouted  loudly,  "  That's 
where  the  throne  is,  and  soon  people  will  be  hunting 
for  pieces  of  it."  Then  all  broke  out  into  abuse  of 
the  King  and  Queen.  One  of  these  was  Saint- 
Huruge,  one  of  the  men  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans. 

Meanwhile,  deputations  of  fishwomen  kept  coming 
to  ask  Louis  XVI.  to  return  to  Paris,  and  the  agi- 
tation continued  in  the  rebellious  city.  What  was 
he  to  do?  Obey  the  demands  of  the  populace  and 
plunge  into  that  seething  abyss,  or  withdraw  from 
Versailles  with  the  faithful  troops  whom  he  had  just 
ordered  to  retreat  ?  Marie  Antoinette,  whose  instinct 
did  not  deceive  her,  urged  the  second  course.  She 
had  already  burned  a  number  of  her  papers  and  put 
her  most  valuable  jewels  in  a  strong  box  which  she 
meant  to  take  with  her.  But  in  the  morning  of  the 
16th,  it  was  decided  that  the  troops  should  depart 
without  the  King,  and  that  the  unhappy  monarch, 
trusting  to  the  loyalty  of  his  good  city  of  Paris, 
would  go  alone,  the  next  day,  to  his  rebellious  sub- 
jects. 

From  the  moment  that  Louis  XVI.  adopted  this 
resolution,  it  became  impossible  for  the  Count  of 
Artois,  the  Princes  of  Cond^,  and  the  Polignac  fam- 


216  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

ily  to  stay  longer  in  France.  The  King  ordered 
them  to  leave.  In  vain  the  Count  of  Artois,  who 
was  courage  personified,  offered  to  enter  the  insur- 
gent city  alone,  or  at  any  rate  to  accompany  him 
on  his  visit  appointed  for  the  morrow ;  Louis  XVI. 
declined  the  generous  offer,  and  bade  the  Prince  to 
leave  the  kingdom  at  once,  together  with  his  two 
sons,  the  Dukes  of  Angouleme  and  of  Berry.  The 
same  order  was  given  to  the  Prince  of  Condd,  to  his 
son,  the  Duke  of  Bourbon,  to  his  grandson,  the  Duke 
of  Enghien,  and  to  the  Prince  of  Conti.  The  three 
sons  of  France  and  the  four  princes  of  the  blood 
obeyed,  with  despair  in  their  heart,  and  in  the  even- 
ing of  July  16  took  leave  of  the  King,  whom  they 
were  never  to  see  again. 

At  almost  the  same  moment,  at  eight  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  the  Queen  sent  for  the  Duke  and  Duch- 
ess of  Polignac.  With  a  voice  broken  with  emotion, 
Marie  Antoinette  stammered  out :  "  The  King  is 
going  to  Paris  to-morrow;  if  he  is  asked  —  I  fear  the 
worst.  In  the  name  of  our  friendship,  leave.  .  .  . 
There  is  yet  time  to  save  you  from  the  fury  of  my 
enemies ;  by  attacking  you  they  mean  to  attack  me. 
Do  not  be  victims  of  your  devotion  and  of  my  friend- 
ship." 

It  was  necessary  to  leave  at  once,  without  delay  —  ^ 
in  a  few  hours,  at  midnight.     This  departure  seemed 
to  them  desertion,  and  dishonorable.    Their  devotion 
and  courage  could  not  consent  to  such  a    sacrifice. 
At  this  moment  the    King  entered :    ''  Come,"  the 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  DUCHESS.         217 

Queen  said  to  him,  ''help  me  persuade  these  honest 
people,  these  faithful  officials,  that  they  must  leave 
us."  Louis  XVI.  approached  sorrowfully  the  Duke 
and  Duchess.  "My  cruel  fate,"  he  said  to  them, 
"compels  me  to  send  away  all  whom  I  esteem  and 
love.  I  have  just  bidden  the  Count  of  Artois  to  leave ; 
I  give  you  the  same  order.  Pity  me,  but  do  not  lose 
a  moment ;  take  your  family  with  you ;  count  upon 
me  at  any  time.  I  shall  keep  your  offices  for  you." 
And  as  he  spoke  the  King  burst  into  tears.  Marie 
Antoinette  kissed  the  Duchess,  and  the  two  friends 
parted  forever. 

In  less  than  three  hours  the  preparations  for  depart- 
ure were  finished.  This  Duchess,  who  was  thought 
very  rich,  and  whom  the  libellous  writers  of  the  time 
represented  as  one  of  the  principal  causes  of  the 
deficit,  went  away  poor  from  Versailles,  where  she 
had  been  so  calumniated,  and  at  the  last  moment  the 
Queen  was  obliged  to  give  her  a  purse  of  ^Ye  hun- 
dred louis  to  pay  her  travelling  expenses.  M.  Cam- 
pan  put  her  in  her  carriage  at  midnight.  She  was 
dressed  like  a  chambermaid,  and  took  her  seat  in 
front.  With  her  were  her  husband,  her  daughter, 
the  Duchess  of  Guise,  her  sister-in-law,  the  Countess 
Diane,  and  the  Abb^  de  Balivi^re.  Just  as  she  was 
starting  she  received  this  note  from  Marie  Antoi- 
nette :  "  Good  by,  dearest  of  friends  !  What  a  pain- 
ful word  it  is,  but  it  is  necessary !  Good  by !  I  have 
only  strength  enough  to  kiss  you." 

Sad  fate  and  destiny !     This  beautiful  and  charm- 


218  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

ing  Duchess,  whose  success  had  aroused  much  jeal- 
ousy, friend  of  the  Queen,  governess  of  the  royal 
children,  was  now  treated  like  a  condemned  criminal. 
A  moment  before  she  had  been  told  that  the  hour  of 
exile  had  come,  and  that  she  could  not  see  the  sun 
rise  at  Versailles.  She  could  not  be  allowed  to  give 
one  last  glance  at  the  beautiful  park,  at  its  familiar 
shades ;  but  she  must  depart  at  once,  at  midnight,  in 
disguise  :  it  is  all  like  a  hideous  nightmare.  And 
then  imagine  the  distress  and  anxiety  that  pursued 
the  fugitives  in  their  journey !  Was  the  Queen  they 
had  left  to  be  saved  or  lost  ?  and  the  King,  who  was 
to  start  for  Paris  in  the  morning,  would  he  be  alive 
in  the  evening?  That  throne,  with  no  army  to  de- 
fend it,  would  it  be  overthrown  ?  When  would  end 
this  exile,  begun  so  gloomily  ? 

On  their  way  they  heard  threats  and  imprecations. 
If  the  fanatics  who  were  declaiming  against  the 
authorities  had  known  that  the  passing  carriage  con- 
tained the  detested  Polignacs,  they  might  fear  the 
Worst.  When  they  got  to  Sens  they  found  that  the 
populace  had  risen.  An  inquisitive  crowd  came  up 
and  asked  them :  "  Do  you  come  from  Paris  ?  Are 
the  Polignacs  still  with  the  Queen  ?  "  The  Abb^  de 
Balivi^re  remained  perfectly  calm,  and  answered 
quietly:  "The  Polignacs?  They  are  now  a  good 
Way  from  Versailles.  Those  evil  persons  have  been 
got  rid  of." 

At  the  next  stopping-place  a  postilion  got  up  on 
the  step,  and  said  to  the  Duchess:  "Madame,  there 


THE  DEPAETURE  OF  THE  DUCHESS.  219 

are  some  faithful  people  in  the  world ;  I  recognized 
you  all  at  Sens."  And  the  Duchess  slipped  some 
louis  into  his  hand. 

While  the  Polignacs  were  hurrying  towards  Switz- 
erland, Louis  XVI.,  with  a  courage  that  equalled  his 
honesty,  was  facing  the  populace  of  Paris  alone,  carry- 
ing words  of  peace  and  union.  It  was  with  the  live- 
liest apprehensions  that  Marie  Antoinette  saw  him 
depart.  She  feared  that  he  might  be  detained  as  a 
hostage,  or,  possibly,  be  put  to  death.  Nevertheless, 
he  set  forth  in  the  morning  of  July  17.  Twelve  men 
of  the  body-guard  and  of  the  civic  guard  of  Versailles 
accompanied  him  as  far  as  the  Point  du  Jour,  near 
Sevres,  when  they  left  him,  and  their  place  was  taken 
by  the  new  National  Guard  of  Paris.  In  their  ranks 
were  some  of  the  French  guards,  who  had  taken  part 
in  the  insurrection  at  the  capture  of  the  Bastille  on 
the  14th.  For  artillery  they  had  the  cannons  taken 
from  the  Bastille  and  the  Invalides,  and  these  tro- 
phies of  rebellion  seemed  to  threaten  the  King's  car- 
riage. One  musket  went  off,  and  mortally  wounded 
a  woman.  People  asked  one  another  with  alarm 
what  would  become  of  Louis  XVI. 

It  was  after  four  in  the  afternoon  that  the  King,  who 
had  left  Versailles  at  ten  in  the  morning,  reached  the 
H6tel  de  Ville  in  Paris.  Encompassed  by  a  throng 
full  of  sullen  hostility,  the  amiable  monarch,  to 
whom  Bailly  had  just  said,  "Henri  IV.  had  con- 
quered his  people,  to-day  it  is  the  people  who  have 
reconquered  their  King,"  mounted  the  steps  of  the 


220  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

staircase,  beneath  an  archway  of  crossed  swords,  which 
were  as  much  a  menace  as  an  honor.  The  attitude 
of  the  crowd  continued  cold.  Not  a  cry  of  "  Long 
live  the  King ! "  had  been  uttered.  Louis  XVI. 
appeared  on  the  balcony;  Bailly  gave  him  the  tri- 
colored  cockade,  and  he  fastened  it  on  his  hat.  Then 
the  crowd  applauded;  the  usual  cheers  rent  the  air. 
The  good  father,  who  fancied  that  he  had  recovered 
the  love  of  his  children,  wept  for  joy.  "  Cubi^res," 
he  said  to  one  of  his  equerries,  "  the  French  loved 
Henri  IV.,  and  what  King  ever  better  deserved  their 
love  ? "  Ah !  it  was  not  of  Henri  IV.  that  Louis 
XVI.  should  have  been  thinking,  but  of  Charles  I. 

Meanwhile  Marie  Antoinette,  in  a  fever  of  anxiety, 
was  counting  the  minutes.  At  one  moment  she  was 
pacing  up  and  down  her  room,  at  the  next  she  was 
on  her  knees,  praying  God  to  be  merciful.  Every  hour 
messengers  brought  her  the  news  from  Paris.  She 
had  already  heard  how  coldly  Louis  XVI.  had  been 
greeted  at  his  entrance.  Convinced  that  her  husband 
would  be  held  as  a  hostage,  she  exclaimed,  "  They 
will  not  let  him  come  back ! "  She  blamed  herself 
for  not  going  with  him.  If  he  became  a  captive,  she 
determined  to  share  his  fate,  and  to  surrender  her- 
self, with  her  children,  to  the  National  Assembly, 
making  them  a  speech  which  she  already  knew  by 
heart.  It  began  thus :  "  Gentlemen,  I  come  to  place 
in  your  hands  the  wife  and  the  family  of  your  King ; 
do  not  suffer  earth  to  separate  those  whom  Heaven 
has  joined."     She  sent  for  several  of  her  courtiers, 


THE  BEPARTUBE  OF  THE  DUCHESS.         221 

but  their  doors  were  found  locked ;  they  had  fled  in 
terror.  A  death-like  silence  prevailed  in  the  palace. 
The  little  Dauphin  stood  with  his  face  pressed  against 
the  window-pane,  looking  anxiously  up  the  Avenue  de 
Paris,  eagerly  awaiting  his  father's  return.  "  Why," 
he  asked,  "why  should  they  hurt  papa?  he  is  so 
good." 

At  last,  at  about  ten  o'clock,  carriage  wheels  were 
heard.  It  was  the  King,  coming  back  safe  and  sound, 
pleased  with  the  day  and  contented  with  his  people. 
Marie  Antoinette  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  ran  to 
meet  her  husband.  On  the  steps  of  the  marble  stair- 
case they  fell  into  each  other's  arms.  Versailles  was 
full  of  rejoicing;  the  crowd,  carrying  branches  of 
trees,  in  token  of  its  delight,  made  its  way  into  the 
palace  courtyard.  The  King  appeared  twice,  with 
his  family,  on  the  balcony,  in  answer  to  the  cheers 
and  applause.  He  kept  repeating,  as  he  recounted 
the  events  of  the  day:  "Happily,  not  a  drop  of 
blood  was  shed.  I  swear  that  not  a  drop  of  French 
blood  shall  ever  be  shed  by  my  orders." 

In  short,  the  courage,  the  generosity,  the  kindness 
of  the  King  had  .  been  admirable ;  but  something 
more  was  needed  to  direct  the  masses.  If  they  were 
not  held  in  awe  by  force,  their  hearts  softened  but  for 
a  moment,  to  resume  speedily  their  violent  passions. 
Louis  XVI.  deceived  himself  when  he  thought  that 
he  had  tamed  the  savage  monster  by  his  gentle  looks ; 
the  next  day  it  was  to  roar  again. 


XXIII. 

THE  QUEEN  AND  THE  MARQUIS   OF    LA  FAYETTE. 

THE  moment  was  approaching  when  Marie  An- 
toinette was  to  find  herself  in  conflict  with  two 
men  who  had  been  her  courtiers,  whom  she  had  made 
her  debtors  by  her  kindness,  and  whom  the  vicissitudes 
of  politics  were  going  to  make  her  enemies.  One 
was  the  Marquis  of  La  Fayette ;  the  other,  the  Duke 
of  Orleans.  No  one,  a  few  years  earlier,  when  the 
monarchy  was  at  the  height  of  its  glory,  would  have 
imagined  that  a  marquis  and  a  prince  of  the  blood 
would  suddenly  become  the  idols  of  the  revolution- 
ists, and  would  hold  in  check  the  heir  to  the  "throne 
of  Louis  XIV.  Periods  of  disturbances,  are,  how- 
ever, fertile  in  just  such  surprises,  and  the  leading 
actors  must  themselves  often  be  surprised  at  the  part 
which  fortune  leads  them  to  play  in  the  drama  of 
history,  which  is  full  of  unexpected  turns  and  changes. 
Early  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  we  saw  the  young 
Marquis  of  La  Fayette  in  the  charming  court  of 
Marie  Antoinette.  He  was  one  of  the  young  men 
who  tried  to  revive  the  dress  of  Henri  IV.,  and  who, 
in  the  quadrilles  at  the  Queen's  balls,  wore  silk  doub- 

222 


THE   QUEEN  AND  LA   FAYETTE.  223 

lets  and  caps  with  white  feathers.  He  was  born 
in  1757,  and  his  father  and  mother  having  soon 
died,  he  came  into  possession  of  a  vast  fortune.  In 
1774,  when  sixteen  years  old,  he  married  a  girl  of 
fourteen  and  a  half,  Adrienne  de  Noailles,  daughter 
of  the  Duke  of  Ayen,  who  was  himself  the  son  of  the 
Marshal  of  Noailles,  and  of  Anne  Louise  Henriette 
d'Aguesseau.  The  Marquis  of  La  Fayette  lived 
with  his  wife  and  her  parents  in  the  rue  Saint 
Honore,  in  the  splendid  Noailles  mansion,  which 
stood  where  now  runs  the  rue  d' Alger.  At  that 
time  he  had  a  cold  and  serious  air,  which  seemed  to 
indicate  shyness  and  timidity,  and  presented  a  marked 
contrast  to  the  sprightliness,  frivolity,  and  witty 
talkativeness  of  his  friends.  Beneath  this  cloak  of 
apparent  coldness  was  hidden  an  ardent  nature,  the 
mainspring  of  which  was  an  unbounded  love  of  fame. 
He  had  been  devoted  to  women  before  he  became 
ambitibus  of  glory.  The  Count  of  S^gur  could  not 
keep  from  smiling  when  the  Marshal  of  Noailles  said 
to  him,  "  Do  use  your  influence  with  La  Fayette  to 
warm  his  coldness,  to  arouse  him  from  his  indolence, 
to  give  him  some  of  the  fire  of  your  character." 
"  Better  than  any  one,"  explains  the  Count,  "  was  I 
able  to  understand  him,  for  in  the  previous  winter 
(1776)  he  had  been  in  love  with  a  very  beautiful 
and  charming  woman,  and  had  taken  it  into  his  head 
that  I  was  his  rival ;  hence,  although  we  were  friends, 
in  an  access  of  jealousy,  he  had  spent  nearly  a  whole 
night   with  me,  trying  to  persuade   me   to   contend. 


224  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

sword  in  hand,  for  the  heart  of  a  beauty  in  whom  I 
took  not  the  slightest  interest." 

-Great  was  the  surprise  in  Paris  and  at  Versailles 
when  it  was  learned  that  this  nineteen-year-old  sage, 
who  seemed  so  cold  and  indifferent,  had,  against  the 
King's  orders,  chartered  a  ship  at  his  own  expense, 
and  crossed  the  ocean  to  fight  for  American  liberty. 
Without  a  regret  he  left  the  delightful  court  life,  his 
magnificent  home,  the  meeting-place  of  elegance  and 
intelligence,  to  plunge  into  the  wildest  adventures. 
His  wife,  who  was  devoted  to  him,  showed  Christian 
stoicism,  and  did  not  try  to  detain  him.  In  1807, 
shortly  before  her  death,  her  husband  recalled  this 
distant  memory.  "  Do  you  remember  the  first  time  I 
went  to  America  ?  At  M.  de  S^gur's  wedding  you 
concealed  your  tears.  You  didn't  wish  to  seem  dis- 
tressed, lest  it  should  make  people  think  ill  of  me." 
"True,"  she  said,  "it  was  very  thoughtful  for  a 
young  girl.  But  how  kind  it  is  of  you  to  remember 
it  all  this  while  !  "  ^ 

Although  La  Fayette  had  committed  an  act  of  dis- 
obedience by  going  to  fight  under  the  American  flag, 
Marie  Antoinette  never  forbore  to  treat  him  with 
great  kindness.  She  often  received  him  when  he 
returned  to  France  in  February,  1779,  and  with  her 
own  hand  copied  these  lines  from  the  tragedy  of 
"  Gaston  and  Bayard,"  in  which  the  Marquis's  friends 
thought  they  saw  a  resemblance  to  him  :  — 

1  Life  of  Madame  de  La  Fayette,  by  Madame  de  Lasteyrie,  her 
daughter. 


THE   QUEEN  AND  LA   FAYETTE.  225 

"  Profound  in  his  plans,  which  he  forms  with  coldness, 
It  is  for  their  accomplishment  that  he  preserves  his  ardor. 
He  knows  how  to  defend  a  camp  and  to  storm  walls ; 

He  loves  battle  like  a  young  soldier ; 
Like  an  old  general  he  knows  how  to  avoid  it. 
I  like  to  follow  him,  and  even  to  imitate  him. 
I  admire  his  prudence  and  love  his  courage  ; 
With  these  two  virtues  a  warrior  is  never  old." 

La  Fayette  was  the  fashion.  The  famous  battle  of 
Beaug^,  in  which  an  ancestor  of  his  had  defeated 
and  killed  the  brother  of  Henry  V.  of  England,  and 
saved  the  crown  of  Charles  YII.  of  France,  was  not 
made  more  of  than  was  the  battle  of  the  Brandywine, 
in  which  the  descendant  of  the  illustrious  w^arrior 
was  wounded  in  heading  a  charge  of  the  American 
troops.  When  he  returned  to  America  for  the  second 
time,  the  government  could  not  praise  him  too  much 
or  find  benefits  enough  wherewith  to  reward  tho 
young  champion  of  the  new  republic. 

January  21,  1782,  a  great  festival  was  taking  place 
at  the  H6tel  de  Ville  in  Paris,  in  honor  of  the  birth 
of  the  Dauphin,  when  suddenly  word  came  that  La 
Fayette  had  just  reached  the  capital.  Madame  de  La 
Fayette,  who  was  at  the  H6tel  de  Ville,  then  received 
an  unusual  mark  of  the  Queen's  favor  and  bounty ; 
for  Marie  Antoinette  herself  carried  her  in  the  royal 
carriage,  to  the  H6tel  de  Versailles  that  she  might 
as  soon  as  possible  welcome  her  husband.  Every  one 
became  enthusiastic  over  the  conqueror  of  Cornwal- 
lis ;    the  infatuation  was  universal.     At  his  sugges- 


^9^^    Of  THi        *^ 


226  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

i  ~~~~~~ 

tion  the  Queen  had  her  full-length  portrait  painted, 
and  she  sent  it  to  Washington.  The  King  promoted 
him  over  all  his  fellow-officers,  to  raise  him  to  the 
rank  he  had  held  in  America.  His  bust  was  placed 
in  the  H6tel  de  Ville  in  Paris.  His  wife  happened 
to  be  at  an  audience  of  the  upper  house  of  Parlia- 
ment the  same  day  as  the  Grand  Duke  Paul,  and  the 
Attorney-General  of  the  Court  of  Peers  complimented 
her,  as  well  as  the  son  of  the  Empress  Catherine. 

This  reforming  Marquis,  who  on  his  return  to  his 
native  land,  could  show  the  scars  of  the  wounds  he 
had  received  in  fighting  for  freedom,  a  republican 
decoration  (that  of  the  Cincinnati),  to  whom  the 
United  States  had  given  the  rights  of  citizenship,  and 
Washington  had  treated  like  a  son,  came  back  more 
American  than  French,  full  of  zeal  for  an  exotic  lib- 
erty which,  when  transplanted  in  France,  was  to  bear 
fruits  very  unlike  those  he  expected.  In  Paris  he 
had  a  board  set  up  in  a  handsome  frame ;  there  were 
two  columns:  on  one  was  inscribed  the  American 
Declaration  of  Independence ;  the  other  was  left 
blank  as  if  to  await  a  similar  Declaration  on  the  part 
of  the  French.  Intoxicated  with  popularity,  he  de- 
lighted in  what  he  called  "  the  delicious  sensation  of 
the  smile  of  the  multitude."  He  said  himself  that 
his  reputation  was  a  portion  of  his  happiness  without 
which  he  could  not  live  ;  his  perfect  confidence  in  his 
own  ideas,  his  unfailing  hopefulness,  his  canine  love 
of  fame,  as  Jefferson  called  it,  his  resolution  to  dis- 
regard all  the  lessons  of  experience,  his  firm  faith  in 


THE  QUEEN  AND  LA   FAYETTE.  227 

a  golden  age,  even  in  one  of  iron,  composed  a  charac- 
ter which  was  a  curious  mixture  of  heroism  and  sim- 
plicity. The  Duke  of  Choisenl  has  named  him  Gilles 
Caesar ;  Mirabeau  used  to  call  him  Gilles  the  Great. 

"  To  judge  him,"  M.  Thureau  Dangin  has  said,  "  it 
is  only  necessary  to  remember  that  he  was  always  the 
man  of  the  National  Guard.  He  was  in  some  way  the 
incarnation  of  this  grand  illusion  of  civic  liberalism. 
Having  been  called  to  the  head  of  the  National  Guard, 
in  1789,  after  the  fourteenth  of  July,  he  was  given 
the  same  place  in  1830.  He  called  it  his  eldest 
daughter,  and  under  the  Restoration  used  to  sign  his 
manifests,  "  A  National  Guard  of  1789." 

With  all  his  obstinacy  and  fixity  of  purpose,  he 
had  a  momentary  hesitation  before  entering  the  path 
he  so  boldly  followed.  This  was  on  the  22d  of 
July,  1789.  He  had  just  been  appointed  commander- 
in-chief  of  the  new  militia,  the  National  Guard,  which 
flaunted  the  tricolor  cockade,  and  had  enlisted  in  the 
French  Guards,  who  were  devoted  to  the  Revolution, 
a  certain  number  of  Swiss,  and  many  soldiers  who 
had  deserted  their  regiments  in  the  hope  of  better 
pay.  With  this  revolutionary  militia  he  expected  to 
be  able  to  maintain  order  —  an  illusion  which  he  soon 
lost.  July  22d  he  saw  an  old  man,  one  Foulon, 
seventy-six  years  of  age,  murdered  before  his  eyes, 
in  spite  of  every  effort  on  his  part  to  save  the  poor 
victim,  who  had  been  dragged  to  the  H6tel  de  Ville 
with  nettles  around  his  neck,  a  bunch  of  thistles  in 
his  hand,  a  truss  of  hay  behind  his  back,  and  was 


228  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

then  hanged  on  a  lamp-post  by  veritable  cannibals. 
The  Reign  of  Terror  was  beginning.  On  that  day 
the  Marquis  of  La  Fayette  was  indignant ;  he  handed 
in  his  resignation,  but,  allured  by  the  flattery  of  the 
populace,  he  hastened  to  withdraw  it.  Mirabeau  said 
at  the  time,  "  Nations  require  victims,"  and  Barnave, 
"  Was  the  blood  that  was  shed  so  pure  ?  " 

After  this  brief  flash  of  clear-sightedness.  La  Fay- 
ette fell  back  into  his  customary  illusions.  Although 
Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette  had  honored  him 
with  such  great  kindness,  and  his  birth  should  have 
attached  him  to  the  monarchy,  he  who  in  less  troubled 
times  would  have  been  one  of  the  noblest  and  most 
faithful  of  the  King's  servants,  was  about  to  be  led 
by  a  fatal  chain  of  events  to  weaken  the  throne 
which  it  was  his  first  duty  te  defend.  The  spirit  of 
opposition  was  most  prominent  in  this  great  demo- 
cratic nobleman,  a  revolutionist  and  a  conservative  by 
turns,  who  one  day  fomented  a  riot,  and  the  next 
day  repressed  it ;  who  seemed  to  Louis  XVI.  and  the 
Queen  now  like  an  enemy,  and  in  a  moment  like  a 
friend. 

Moreover,  in  1789,  he  was  no  longer  able  to  con- 
trol events.  In  the  morning  of  October  5,  the 
Parisian  rabble,  which  had  gathered  in  front  of  the 
H6tel  de  Ville,  was  shouting,  "  To  Versailles  !  to 
Versailles  I "  La  Fayette  opposed  this  proposition. 
He  rode  up  and  down  in  front  of  a  battalion  of  the 
National  Guard  which  was  drawn  up  on  the  quai  de 
Grive,  trying  to  gain  time,  in  the  hope  that  the  crowd 


THE  QUEEN  AND  LA  FAYETTE.  229 

would  abandon  its  plan.  A  young  man  who  belonged 
to  the  battalion  stepped  out  of  the  ranks,  seized  the 
bridle  of  his  horse,  and  said,  "  General,  hitherto  you 
have  commanded  us ;  now  we  are  going  to  lead  you." 
La  Fayette  looked  at  this  young  man,  and  in  com- 
pliance uttered  but  one  word,  "March!  " 


XXIV. 

MAEIE    ANTOINETTE    AND    THE    DUKE    OF   ORLEANS. 

ri'^HE  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  was  to  be  one  of  the 
_1_  most  dangerous  of  the  enemies  of  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, was  for  a  long  time  on  good  terms  with  her. 
The  correspondence  of  the  Count  of  Mercy-Argenteau 
shows  no  sign  of  any  serious  dissension  between  the 
Queen  and  the  Prince.  During  the  visit  to  the  court 
of  the  Archduke  Maximilian,  in  1785,  there  were 
some  few  trifling  matters  of  etiquette  about  which 
the  Prince  complained ;  but  that  w^as  all.  The  Prince, 
who  was  then  styled  the  Duke  of  Chartres,  becoming 
Duke  of  Orleans  only  in  1785,  at  the  death  of  his 
father,  was  born  at  Saint  Cloud,  in  1747.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  he  was  a 
young  man  of  twenty-seven,  devoted  to  pleasure  and 
utterly  indifferent  to  politics.  The  Queen  treated 
him  very  kindly,  and  he  took  part  in  all  the  enter- 
tainments which  she  gave.  In  1769  he  had  married 
the  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Penthi^vre,  and  by  this 
alliance  he  had  come  into  possession  of  an  enormous 
fortune,  which  the  untimely  death  of  his  brother,  the 
Prince  of  Lamballe,  had  made  still  greater,  permit- 
ting him  to  live  most  extravagantly. 

230 


THE  DUKE  OF  ORLEANS.  231 

In  1776,  the  Princess  of  Lamballe  was  able,  by  her 
influence  with  the  Queen,  to  secure  for  the  Duke 
the  post  of  governor  of  Poitou.  The  same  year,  with 
the  Count  of  Artois,  the  companion  of  his  pleasures, 
he  established  horse-races,  which  was  a  favorite  amuse- 
ment of  Marie  Antoinette.  January  30,  1777,  he 
gave  the  Queen  a  grand  ball  at  the  Palais  Royal. 
The  next  day  this  paragraph  appeared  in  the  Journal 
de  Paris :  "  To-day,  at  midnight.  His  Highness  the 
Duke  of  Chartres  gave  a  ball  at  the  Palais  Eoyal, 
to  which  the  Queen  and  the  royal  family  were  in- 
vited." This  statement  was  not  perfectly  correct :  a 
queen  is  never  invited  to  an  entertainment ;  she  honors 
it  with  her  presence.  But  in  spite  of  what  was  said 
about  it,  the  Queen  willingly  overlooked  the  blunder. 

In  1777,  the  Duke  of  Chartres  served  with  distinc- 
tion on  the  ocean  and  in  the  Mediterranean.  Having 
been  appointed  admiral,  he  was  present  in  1778,  at 
the  battle  of  Ouessant,  in  the  Saint  Esprit,  It  was 
by  misunderstanding  the  signals,  and  not  through 
lack  of  courage,  that  he  sailed  out  of  action,  at  the 
decisive  moment,  with  the  ships  under  his  command. 
For  a  time  the  public  reproached  him  with  this  blun- 
der, and  it  has  been  asserted  that  Marie  Antoinette 
blamed  him  in  the  most  cutting  way ;  but  the  Count 
of  Mercy's  correspondence  does  not  corroborate  this 
statement.  On  the  contrary,  the  ambassador  repre- 
sents the  Queen  as  treating  the  Duke  at  this  time 
with  the  warmest  interest.  November  17,  1778,  he 
wrote  to  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa  as  follows  :  — 


232  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

"  The  Duke  of  Chartres,  who  has  been  blamed  for 
the  loss  of  the  victory  at  Ouessant,  and  has  been,  in 
consequence,  in  hot  water  with  the  high  naval  offi- 
cers, appealed  to  the  Count  of  Artois,  who  persuaded 
the  Queen  to  give  to  the  Duke  of  Chartres  the  bene- 
fit of  her  protection.  It  had  been  suggested  that  he 
should  honorably  resign  from  the  navy,  and  receive 
in  return  some  special  mark  of  distinction.  For  this 
purpose  it  had  been  proposed  to  revive  the  post  of 
colonel-general  of  hussars  and  light  cavalry ;  but  the 
King  opposed  those  plans,  and  it  required  all  the 
Queen's  influence  to  carry  them  through.  She  gave 
them  all  possible  aid." 

No  one  at  that  time  could  have  suspected  the  future 
that  awaited  the  Prince.  The  traditions  of  his  fam- 
ily were  rich  in  examples  of  fidelity  to  the  monarchy. 
Without  mentioning  the  brother  of  Louis  XIY.,  who 
was  all  obedience  and  submission,  his  great-grand- 
father, the  Regent,  had  exhibited  the  utmost  devotion 
to  the  young  Louis  XV. ;  his  grandfather,  whose  last 
years  were  spent  at  the  Abbey  of  Saint  Genevieve, 
lived  and  died  like  a  saint ;  his  father,  whose  second 
marriage  was  a  morganatic  one  with  Madame  de  Mon- 
tesson,  was  an  amiable  and  kindly  man,  who  took  no 
interest  in  politics,  and  never  in  any  way  embarrassed 
Louis  XY.  or  Louis  XVI.  With  such  models,  the 
Prince,  who  later  was  to  be  called  Philippe  Egalit^, 
did  not  seem  destined  to  play  a  revolutionary  part. 

Led  by  circumstances,  he  had  no  idea  whither  he 
was  going,  and  when  he  started  he  had  no  thought 


THE  DUKE  OF  OBLEANS.  233 

of  the  abyss  to  which  he  was  marching.  The  bare 
thought  that  he  might  become  a  regicide  would  have 
brought  a  smile  to  his  lips.  He  was  a  witty,  pleasant- 
tempered  man,  more  eager  for  pleasure  than  for  glory  ; 
always  in  love,  and  especially  with  Madame  de  Buffon, 
like  a  youth  of  eighteen ;  averse  to  work,  careless, 
extravagant,  with  no  settled  plan  of  life;  devoted 
to  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  to  hunting,  luxury,  the 
theatre,  races,  gambling,  and  English  fashions  ;  capa- 
ble of  shining  in  boudoirs  more  than  in  public  life ; 
distrustful  of  the  demagogues,  whom,  however,  he 
was  always  following ;  more  truly  a  courtier  than  a 
friend  of  liberty ;  rather  weak  than  wicked ;  more  to 
be  pitied  than  blamed ;  a  sad  and  noteworthy  exam- 
ple of  what  the  revolutionary  spirit  can  make  out  of 
a  sympathetic  nature. 

One  of  his  most  faithful  friends,  the  beautiful 
Madame  Elliott,  an  Englishwoman,  thus  speaks  of 
him :  "  The  Duke  of  Orleans  was  a  very  amiable 
man,  with  great  charm  of  manner,  of  a  yielding  dis- 
position :  never  did  there  exist  a  man  less  fit  to  be 
the  head  of  a  great  party.  His  mind,  his  talents,  his 
education,  in  no  way  adapted  him  to  this  position; 
and  for  a  long  time  I  hoped  that  his  heart  would 
revolt  at  the  thought  of  bringing  his  country  to  such 
a  cruel  condition  of  anarchy.  His  revolutionary 
friends  at  last  understood  him,  for  they  could  not 
induce  him  to  take  any  interest  in  their  plans. 
Some  of  them  were  lucky  enough  to  patch  up  a 
peace  with  the  court,  leaving  the  poor  Duke  in  the 


234  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

hands  of  the  wretches  who  surrounded  him,  and 
introduced  to  him  others  of  the  same  kind,  until  at 
last  they  had  brought  him  to  ruin  and  disgrace." 

Madame  Elliott,  who  was  as  kind  as  she  was  intel- 
ligent, continues  with  an  emotion  which  was  easily 
understood :  "All  this  is  painful  for  me  to  say ;  for  I 
had  known  the  Duke  of  Orleans  many  years,  and  he 
had  always  been  very  kind  and  attentive  to  me,  as  he 
was,  for  that  matter,  to  all  who  had  anything  to  do 
with  him.  No  one  can  form  any  idea  of  the  way  I 
suffered  when  I  saw  him  gradually  sinking  into  every 
sort  of  infamy,  for  I  am  thoroughly  convinced  that 
he^  never  meant  to  go  so  far." 

At  first  the  Duke's  opposition  was  very  gentle. 
He  made  frequent  visits  to  England,  and  brought 
back  the  English  fashions,  ways,  and  amusements, 
as  well  as  their  political  ideas.  He  was  very  enthu- 
siastic about  parliamentary  institutions,  and  persuaded 
himself  that  France  ought  to  become  a  mixed  mon- 
archy, in  which  the  first  prince  of  the  blood  should 
be  the  leader  of  the  opposition.  But  opposition  is 
a  complicated  bit  of  machinery  into  which  one  can- 
not thrust  his  finger,  without  getting  his  arm,  and 
finally  his  whole  body,  caught.  The  downward  path 
is  easy  and  fatal ;  it  begins  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
ends  in  the  street.  At  first  one  excuses  one's  self  by 
calling  patriotism  and  love  of  the  public  welfare  what 
is  really  rancor  or  ambition.  A  man  deems  himself 
a  good  citizen,  when  he  is,  in  fact,  an  insurgent. 

It  is  easy  to  set  limits  which  are  never  to  be  passedt 


THE  DUKE  OF  ORLEANS.  235 

but  soon  they  are  found  too  narrow.  Things  get 
more  confused;  calmness  and  moderation  are  lost. 
A  man  hates  his  enemies  less  for  the  harm  they  have 
done  him  than  for  the  harm  he  has  done  them.  A 
sincere  reconciliation  soon  becomes  impossible ;  an 
attempt  is  made  to  patch  one  up,  but  on  both  sides 
there  survive  defiance  and  hatred,  and  the  kiss  of 
peace  is  a  Judas  kiss.  Unhappy  are  those  families  in 
which  the  head  has  to  treat  and  argue  with  those 
who  owe  obedience !  Officers  should  command 
respect  from  their  soldiers;  professors,  from  their 
pupils;  masters,  from  their  servants;  fathers,  from 
their  children ;  sovereigns,  from  their  subjects,  and 
especially  from  the  princes  of  their  household.  The 
higher  a  man's  place  in  the  monarchy,  the  more 
incumbent  it  is  upon  him  to  set  an  example  of  sub- 
mission to  the  sovereign ;  and  kings  have  no  excuse 
for  not  enforcing  this  rule  upon  princes  of  the  blood 
who  are  disposed  to  neglect  it.  Both  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  and  Louis  XVI.  were  guilty:  one,  of  rebel- 
lion; the  other,  of  weakness.  Instead  of  commanding 
and  acting  like  a  master,  the  good-natured  monarch 
remained,  in  spite  of  his  cousin,  in  one  of  those 
equivocal  situations  which  give  a  king  the  advantage 
neither  of  severity  nor  of  kindness. 

Rendered  bold  by  the  impunity  he  enjoyed,  the 
Duke  himself  was  surprised  at  the  freedom  that  was 
given  him;  at  the  incompetence  and  indifference  of 
the  police ;  at  the  ease  with  which  the  Palais  Royal, 


236  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

which  a  few  good  patrols  could  have  speedily  mas- 
tered, became  the  headquarters  of  revolt.  The  Prince 
soon  learned  to  despise  a  government  which  was  so 
weak,  so  feeble,  so  undecided.  A  king  who  put  him- 
self under  guardianship,  who  resigned  one  by  one 
all  the  prerogatives  of  authority,  inspired  him  with 
nothing  but  contempt.  The  Duke  imagined  himself 
justified  in  anything.  The  needy  intriguers,  who 
desired  to  get  what  they  could  out  of  him,  inspired 
him  with  ambitious  ideas  which  he  had  not  known  at 
first,  and  these  led  him  to  his  ruin.  Possibly  he  was 
vain  enough  to  imagine  that  he  alone  could  govern 
France,  and  tried  to  justify  his  conduct  to  himself  on 
this  pretext. 

Marie  Antoinette  did  not  deceive  herself  about 
him.  She  knew  that  the  Duke  of  Orleans  was  hence- 
forth an  enemy  with  whom  reconciliation  was  impos- 
sible. But,  we  repeat,  the  fault  lay  with  Louis  XVI., 
whose  duty  it  was  to  crush  the  opposition  at  the 
beginning.  Instead  of  that,  the  King  tried  half-way 
measures.  If  he  did  exile  the  Prince,  the  exile  was 
only  a  short  excursion.  He  let  the  Duke  organize 
resistance  while  the  Notables  were  sitting.  At  the 
opening  of  the  States-General,  he  allowed  him  to 
sit  among  the  deputies,  for  the  sake  of  popularity, 
instead  of  on  the  platform,  which  was  a  proper  place 
for  a  prince  of  the  blood.  He  permitted  the  Palais 
Royal  to  become  the  seat  of  a  second  monarchy,  a 
Parisian  monarchy,  full  of  revolutionary  feeling,  with 


THE  DUKE  OF  OBLEANS.  237 

its  budget,  its  officials,  its  army;  he  suffered  Paris  to 
be  flooded  with  papers  and  pamphlets  preaching  an- 
archy —  that  the  revolt  should  have  its  troops  enrolled 
and  paid.  Never  has  a  government  so  surrendered 
its  powers. 

Had  the  Duke  of  Orleans  been  protected  against  V 
himself,  he  would  never  have  been  a  rebel ;  but  the 
King's  incomprehensible  indulgence  transformed  into 
an  insurgent  a  prince  who,  under  any  other  king, 
would  never  have  had  a  guilty  thought.  "  The 
Duke,"  Madame  Elliott  says  elsewhere,  "was  fond 
of  pleasure  and  detested  work  and  business  of  any 
kind;  he  never  read,  and  devoted  himself  solely  to 
amusement.  At  that  time  he  was  madly  in  love  with 
Madame  de  Buffon,  whom  he  used  to  take  out  to 
drive  every  day  and  to  the  theatre  in  the  evening. 
It  was  his  misfortune  to  be  surrounded  with  a  troop 
of  ambitious  men  who  gradually  used  him  for  their 
own  purposes,  and  made  him  see  everything  in  a 
favorable  light,  urging  him  on  till  he  saw  himself  so 
far  in  their  power  that  he  could  not  draw  back.  .  .  . 
I  am  sure  that  the  Duke  had  no  idea  of  seizing  the 
throne,  whatever  may  have  been  the  plans  of  his 
friends.  They  expected,  I  fancy,  if  they  succeeded, 
to  govern  him  as  well  as  France,  and  they  were 
capable  of  any  excess  in  pursuit  of  their  ends." 

July  12,  1789,  just  before  the  capture  of  the  Bas- 
tille, the  Duke  of  Orleans  went  with  Madame  Elliott, 
Prince  Louis  of  Aremberg,  and  a  few  other  friends,  to 


238  MABIJE  ANTOINETTE. 

dine  at  his  castle  of  Raincy.  It  was  a  Sunday.  In 
the  morning  he  had  left  Paris  j)erfectly  calm;  on 
returning  in  the  evening,  he  heard  of  all  the  disorder 
which  had  broken  out  during  the  day,  of  the  insur- 
rection, with  the  cries  of  "Long  live  the  Duke  of 
Orleans !  "  "  Long  live  Necker !  "  of  the  Prince  of 
Lambesc's  charge,  and  of  the  great  agitation  of  the 
city  and  the  suburbs.  "  When  I  heard  of  all  these 
things,"  says  Madame  Elliott,  "  I  entreated  the  Duke 
not  to  enter  Paris  in  his  own  carriage.  I  thought  it 
would  be  very  imprudent  for  him  to  appear  in  the 
streets  at  such  a  moment,  and  I  offered  him  my  car- 
riage. He  seemed  surprised  and  much  impressed 
by  what  had  happened  in  Paris.  He  hoped,  he  said, 
that  it  would  not  turn  out  to  be  anything  serious, 
and  that  fear  had  made  my  servant  exaggerate  the 
truth.  ...  I  besought  the  Duke  to  go  at  once  to 
Versailles,  and  not  to  leave  the  King  so  long  as  Paris 
was  in  such  disorder.  '  If  you  do  this,'  I  said,  '  you 
will  show  that  the  populace  made  use  of  your  name 
without  your  knowledge  and  consent.  You  will  do 
well,'  I  added,  '  to  tell  the  King  how  much  you  are 
distressed  by  all  that  has  happened ! '  "  The  Duke 
gave  his  word  that  he  would  go  to  Versailles  at  seven 
o'clock  the  next  morning ;  and  he  did  go,  but  he  was 
not  well  received.  On  his  arrival  he  went  straight 
to  the  King,  who  had  just  got  out  of  bed.  The  King 
took  no  notice  of  him;  but  since  it  was  the  custom 
that  when  a  prince  of  the  blood  was  present,  that  he 


THE  DUKE  OF  ORLEANS.  239 

should  give  the  King  his  shirt,  the  gentlemen  of  the 
bedchamber  handed  the  shirt  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans, 
for  him  to  put  it  over  the  King's  head.  The  Duke 
went  up  to  the  King,  who  asked  him  what  he  wanted. 
The  Duke,  putting  the  shirt  on  the  King,  answered, 
"  I  have  come  to  receive  Your  Majesty's  commands." 
The  King  answered  very  severely,  "  I  have  no  need 
of  you ;  go  back  where  you  came  from." 

From  that  time  there  was  an  open  feud  between 
the  Prince  and  the  court.  "  From  that  moment," 
says  Madame  Elliott,  "  I  found  the  Duke  much  more 
violent  in  his  political  views ;  and  though  I  never 
heard  him  speak  otherwise  than  with  respect  about 
the  King,  I  have  often  heard  him  speak  with  great 
bitterness  against  the  Queen.  I  was  very  sorry  for 
it.  The  court  would  have  done  better  to  remember 
the  Duke's  influence,  and  to  hesitate  about  offend- 
ing him;  for  I  am  very  sure  that  if  he  had  been 
treated  with  consideration  at  that  time,  and  any 
confidence  had  been  shown  him,  it  would  have  been 
possible  to  get  him  loose  from  the  dangerous  influ- 
ence of  the  men  who  surrounded  him." 

The  lot  was  thrown.  The  descendant  of  Saint 
Louis  and  of  Henri  IV.  was  about  to  become  a  regi- 
cide. Verifying  by  his  fate  the  words  of  Scripture, 
that  if  a  house  be  divided  against  itself,  that  house 
cannot  stand,  he,  like  Samson,  was  to  be  crushed 
under  the  columns  he  pulled  down  with  his  own 
hands.      In   less   than   ten   months   the   scaffold   of 


240  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

Louis  XVI.  and  his  ov/n  were  raised,  and  he  could 
say,  like  Macbeth  soliloquizing  over  Duncan's  mur- 
der: — 

"  But  here,  upon  this  bank  and  shoal  of  time, 

We  still  have  judgment  here ;  that  we  but  teach 
Bloody  instructions,  which,  being  taught,  return 
To  plague  the  inventor :  this  even-handed  justice 
Commends  the  ingredients  of  our  poison'd  chalice 
To  our  own  lips." 


XXV. 

THE  BANQUET   OF   OCTOBER    1. 

THURSDAY,  October  1,  1789,  the  theatre  of  the 
palace  of  Versailles  was  in  great  commotion ; 
towards  four  in  the  afternoon  a  great  banquet  was  to 
be  given  there.  At  the  request  of  a  delegation  of 
the  municipality  of  Versailles,  which  was  alarmed  by 
threats  of  disorder,  the  garrison  of  the  town  had  been 
strengthened  by  a  regiment  from  Flanders,  which  had 
arrived  September  23.  An  immemorial  custom  of  the 
French  army  required  that  every  regiment  arriving 
in  a  town  should  be  given  a  dinner  of  welcome  by 
the  other  corps.  This  rule  was  observed  with  regard 
to  the  regiment  from  Flanders,  and  the  King's  body- 
guard, who  gave  the  dinner,  were  authorized  to  use 
the  palace  theatre  for  this  purpose.  The  officers  of 
the  regiment  of  the  Three  Bishoprics  and  those  of  the 
National  Guard  were  also  invited. 

On  the  stage,  which  was  adorned  with  scenery  rep- 
resenting a  forest,  was  set  a  table,  in  the  form  of  a 
horseshoe,  with  two  hundred  plates.  In  the  orches- 
tra were  the  trumpeters  of  the  body-guard  and  band 
of  the  Flemish  regiment.     The  pit  was  filled  with  the 

241 


242  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

men  of  this  regiment  and  of  that  of  the  Three  Bish- 
opries. In  the  boxes  were  many  spectators,  admitted 
without  tickets.  The  various  uniforms,  the  brilliant 
lighting,  the  arrangement  of  the  stage  and  its  decora- 
tions, the  gorgeous  dresses  of  the  ladies,  combined  to 
form  a  most  impressive  spectacle.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  banquet,  the  feelings  that  inspired  the  troops 
made  themselves  manifest:  the  officers  swore  that 
they  would  defend  the  throne  and,  if  need  be,  would 
die  for  the  King;  the  soldiers  expressed  the  same 
devotion.     It  was  a  festival  of  honor  and  fidelity. 

A  lady  of  the  palace,  thinking  that  such  a  sight 
would  please  and  console  the  royal  family,  went  to  the 
Queen  and  told  her  what  was  going  on,  advising  her 
to  visit  the  spot  with  Louis  XVI.  and  the  children. 
The  King,  who  had  been  hunting  in  the  park  of 
Meudon,  entered  the  palace  at  that  moment.  He 
approved  of  the  plan,  and  suddenly  made  his  appear- 
ance in  the  royal  box  with  the  Queen,  his  son,  and  his 
daughter.  The  band  played  the  air  from  "  Richard 
CcBur  de  Lion  "  :  — 

"  Oh,  Richard  !  oh,  my  King !  the  world  abandons  you  " ; 

then  the  air  from  the  "  Deserter  "  :  — 

"  Can  one  pain  what  one  loves  ?  " 

The  assembled  throng  began  to  cheer;  the  men 
waved  their  hats,  the  women  their  handkerchiefs, 
with  the  wildest  enthusiasm.  The  royal  family  left 
their  box  and  walked  through  the  hall.  The  Queen, 
who  led  her  son  by  his  hand,  was  glad  to  show  him 


THE  BANQUET  OF  OCTOBER  1.  243 

to  her  faithful  servants,  whose  applause  brought  tears 
to  her  eyes.  She  remembered  the  Hungarians  who 
said  to  her  mother,  Maria  Theresa,  Moriamur  pro  rege 
nostro.  Her  face,  which  was  generally  so  sad,  was  lit 
up  with  a  ray  of  happiness.  Like  Homer's  Androm- 
ache, she  smiled  amid  her  tears. 

It  was  a  grand  festival,  a  great  manifestation  of 
chivaliic  honor.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  Marie  Antoi- 
nette's feelings  at  finding  friends  when  she  thought 
herself  abandoned.  Misfortune  makes  the  soul  ten- 
der and  open  to  impression ;  the  slightest  marks  of 
sympathy  call  forth  lively  gratitude.  How  often, 
when  she  was  living  in  the  fiery  furnace  of  the  Revo- 
lution, the  unhappy  Queen  must  have  recalled  this 
last  hour  of  happiness,  this  last  ray  of  the  sun  of 
royalty,  gilding  the  swords  that  were  drawn  to 
express  devotion  towards  her!  It  is  easy  to  under- 
stand the  admiration,  the  ardor,  with  which  the  sight 
of  this  woman,  so  noble  and  so  calunmiated,  must 
have  filled  those  generous  souls !  Even  now  one 
feels  the  quiver  of  enthusiasm,  the  magnetic  current 
which  swept  through  the  hall,  and  the  impression  pro- 
duced on  these  ardent  souls  by  the  sweet  and  touch- 
ing melodies  which  were  wonderfully  applicable  to 
the  circumstances !  Gr^try,  one  might  almost  say, 
was  inspired  by  prophecy  when  he  gave  to  Blondel's 
words  an  accompaniment  so  moving  and  tender.  The 
music  admirably  expressed  the  fervor  which  filled 
every  heart  with  devotion  and  loyalty.  As  for  me, 
when  present  at  the  turbulent  meetings  of  the  Na- 


244  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

tional  Assembly,  in  this  same  hall  which  has  seen  so 
many  vicissitudes,  it  has  happened  to  me  more  than 
once  to  think,  not  about  the  deliberations  of  the  dep- 
uties, but  of  the  banquet  of  October  1,  1789.  What 
I  listened  to  was  not  the  speeches  of  the  orator ;  no, 
it  was  to  the  distant  echo  of  the  band  of  the  Flemish 
regiment  playing  that  air  from  "  Richard."  ^ 

The  repast,  which  had  been  interrupted  by  the  visit 
of  the  royal  family,  was  resumed  after  their  depart- 
ure. When  it  was  over,  the  guests,  the  musicians, 
and  the  spectators  all  went  into  the  marble  courtyard 
and  began  to  cheer  once  more.  A  soldier  of  the  regi- 
ment from  Flanders  climbed  up  to  the  windows  of 
Louis's  chamber,  to  cry,  "  Long  live  the  King ! "  close 
to  His  Majesty.  The  festivity  continued  with  sere- 
nades and  processions  until  late  in  the  night.  These 
joyous  sounds  reached  the  King  in  his  room,  and  the 
Queen,  tasting  a  moment  of  consolation,  felt  happy 
in  a  day  of  wliich  she  did  not  see  the  morrow. 

The  next  day  the  vilest  and  most  shameless  calum- 
nies were  industriously  circulated.  The  revolution- 
ary pamphleteers  resolved  to  turn  the  pathetic  scene 
to  ridicule,  to  represent  this  peaceful  entertainment 
as  an  orgy,  as  a  terrible  debauch.  Gorsas,  the  future 
Girondist,  asserted  in  the  Courrier  de  Versailles,  that 
the  health  of  the  nation  had  been  proposed  and 
rejected,  and  that  the  drunken  guests  had  trampled 

1  A  reference  to  the  sessions  of  the  French  Chambers  held  at 
Versailles  for  several  years  after  the  Franco- Prussian  war  of  1870- 
71.  — Tr. 


THE  BANQUET  OF  OCTOBEB  1.  245 

on  the  national  cockade.  Some  years  later  the 
Queen,  before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  took  pains 
to  refute  this  absurd  calumny.  "  It  is  incredible," 
she  said,  "  that  such  loyal  beings  should  have  been 
willing  to  change  and  trample  on  a  token  which  the 
King  himself  wore." 

Buc  hatred  found  any  weapon  good  to  use  against 
Marie  Antoinette.  The  Revolution  desired  at  any 
price  to  sully  her,  because  it  well  knew,  as  Mirabeau 
once  said,  that  "  the  only  man  the  King  had  about 
him  was  the  Queen !  " 


XXVI. 

THE  FIFTH   OF   OCTOBER. 

MARIE  ANTOINETTE'S  joy  over  the  evi- 
dences of  devotion  and  loyalty  which  found 
expression  at  the  banquet  of  October  1  was  destined 
to  be  of  but  brief  duration.  The  next  day  the  wild- 
est calumnies  began  to  circulate  once  more,  and  this 
most  generous  sovereign  was  represented  as  a  second 
Catherine  de'  Medici,  preparing  another  massacre  of 
Saint  Bartholomew.  Such  ingratitude  and  malevo- 
lence, such  a  depth  of  infamy,  crushed  the  unhappy 
Queen.  She,  whose  character  was  kind  and  tender, 
could  not  comprehend  the  malice,  cruelty,  and  degra- 
dation of  human  nature.  But  her  grief  was  not 
bitter  or  noisy;  she  reflected  calmly  and  seriously, 
and  pardoned  everything. 

In  the  morning  of  October  5,  she  was  in  the  Little 
Trianon,  long  the  seat  of  the  rustic  pleasures  of  the 
royal  family.  We  all  know  what  a  melancholy  thing 
it  is  to  revisit  in  unhappiness  places  we  have  known 
when  happy.  As  Bossuet  says :  "  Already  there  is  a 
change ;  the  gardens  are  less  rich  mth  flowers,  the 
flowers  are  less  brilliant,  their  colors  less  vivid,  the 

246 


THE  FIFTH  OF  OCTOBER.  247 

meadows  less  smiling,  the  water  is  less  clear.  .  .  . 
The  shadow  of  death  is  drawing  nigh ;  one  perceives 
the  proximity  of  the  fatal  gulf.  One  has  to  march 
to  the  edge.  .  .  .  One  tries  to  turn  back,  but  it  is 
impossible ;  everything  has  vanished,  everything  has 
disappeared." 

For  some  time  the  Trianon  had  been  deserted. 
The  Queen's  last  stay  there  had  been  from  July  15 
until  August  14,  1788,  and  since  then  she  had  spent 
only  a  few  hours  there,  wandering  in  silent  revery 
beneath  the  shades  which  were  full  of  pleasant  mem- 
ories. She  was  soon  to  be  deprived  of  the  pleasure 
of  looking  at  the  rustic  scenery  —  that  last  consola- 
tion of  afflicted  hearts.  The  moment  was  approach- 
ing when  she  was  about  to  be  cast  into  the  Tuileries, 
her  first  prison,  and  when  she  should  be  forbidden  to 
revisit  the  gardens  of  the  Trianon. 

It  was  a  dark,  rainy  day ;  the  whole  landscape  and 
the  pretty  hamlet  were  gloomy  and  melancholy.  The 
lawn  where  charming  entertainments  used  to  be 
given,  the  trees  which  in  old  days  had  been  lit  up 
by  fireworks,  the  Swiss  huts  where  Gessner's  idyls 
and  Florian's  pastoral  had  been  represented,  were 
now  much  changed  I  The  willows  bending  sadly 
over  the  lake  were  real  weeping  willows.  Swans 
were  floating  on  the  water ;  might  one  not  say  that, 
like  the  swans  of  legend,  they  were  about  to  sing  the 
last  song  over  the  death  of  royalty?  The  wind 
roared  hoarsely.  Poor  Queen  !  The  autumn  gloom 
was  in   full  harmony  with  her  spirit;  it  seemed  to 


248  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


weep  in  sympathy  with  her.  Seated  alone,  in  a 
grotto,  like  a  statue  of  Grief,  she  thought  of  the 
sombre  present  and  of  the  still  more  sombre  future. 
She  watched  the  leaves  fall  like  the  illusions  of  youth, 
like  glory,  like  happiness,  like  power.  Everything 
was  full  of  quiet  and  melancholy ;  silence  reigned  in 
the  deserted  garden.  She  was  not  to  enjoy  for  long 
this  period  of  tranquillity.  She  is  interrupted  by 
some  one  bringing  a  letter  from  the  Count  of  Saint 
Priest,  summoning  her  to  return  at  once  to  the  pal- 
ace of  Versailles. 

What  had  happened  ?  Uneasiness  was  marked  on 
every  face.  One  of  the  equerries,  M.  de  Cubieres,  had 
hurried  off  after  the  King,  who  was  hunting  peace- 
fully, and  found  him  at  three  o'clock  near  Meudon. 
Louis  XVI.  called  for  his  horse,  and  just  when  he 
was  placing  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  a  knight  of  Saint 
Louis,  falling  on  his  knees,  said  aloud:  "Sire,  you 
are  deceived ;  I  have  just  come  from  the  Military 
School ;  I  have  seen  nothing  but  a  crowd  of  women 
who  say  they  are  coming  to  Versailles  to  ask  for 
bread.  I  beg  Your  Majesty  not  to  be  afraid.'' 
"  Afraid,  sir ! "  the  King  answered  with  warmth ; 
"  I  have  never  in  my  life  been  afraid."  Then  gallop- 
ing down  one  of  the  steepest  slopes  in  the  Meudon 
forest,  he  hastened  to  Versailles,  where  he  found  the 
Queen. 

In  Paris  all  day  the  excitement  had  been  excessive. 
Women  had  been  running  up  and  down  the  streets, 
crying   out   that   there  was   no   more   bread  at  the 


THE  FIFTH  OF  OCTOBEB.  249 

bakers'  shops.  They  had  hastened  to  the  H6tel  de 
Ville  to  complain  of  the  authorities.  The  rioters 
sounded  the  tocsin,  and  Maillard,  who  had  been  con- 
spicuous at  the  capture  of  the  Bastille,  had  taken  a 
drum  ard  headed  the  women  in  their  march.  Fol- 
lowed  by  this  singular  array,  he  had  gone  down  the 
quay,  passed  through  the  Louvre,  the  Tuileries,  the 
Champs  Elys^es,  the  Cours  la  Reine,  and  set  out  for 
Versailles.  A  crowd  of  idlers,  beggars,  and  thieves 
followed  the  band,  singing,  and  shouting  jests  and 
appeals  for  vengeance.  They  stopped  at  every  wine- 
shop, and  called  out  to  the  passers-by  and  to  people 
at  the  windows ;  they  were  brandishing  old  muskets 
and  broken  swords,  dull  hatchets,  pikes,  and  rusty 
daggers. 

The  weather  was  very  bad;  the  half-drunken 
women  could  hardly  walk  through  the  wind.  "  Aus- 
trian," said  one  of  the  furies,  speaking  about  Marie 
Antoinette,  "  you  have  danced  for  your  own  pleasure  ; 
you  shall  dance  for  ours.  I  want  your  skin  to  make 
ribbons  of,  your  blood  in  my  inkstand,  my  apron  for 
your  entrails ! "  and  ferocious  jests  and  insults  fell 
in  a  perfect  shower.  Madame  Elisabeth,  who  was  at 
her  house  in  Montreuil,  saw  from  the  terrace  in  her 
garden,  the  band  marching  up  the  Avenue  de  Paris. 
She  went  at  once  to  the  palace  of  Versailles,  and  ad- 
vised her  brother  to  repress  the  disorder  at  once.  At 
about  half-past  three  the  regiment  from  Flanders  was 
drawn  up  in  line  on  the  Place  d'Armes,  to  the  left  of 
the  palace.     The  body-guard,  to  the  number  of  about 


250  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


three  hundred,  was  placed  before  the  entrance  to  the 
Minister's  apartments.  A  detachment  of  dragoons 
was  posted  in  the  Avenue  de  Paris.  These  were  all 
the  forces  which  the  King  could  dispose  of  for  his 
defence.  Indecision  prevailed  among  the  ministers 
who  were  in  session ;  M.  de  Saint  Priest  wanted  the 
bridge  of  Sevres  defended,  and  urged  that  Louis 
XVI.  go,  at  the  head  of  his  loyal  troops,  to  drive  back, 
at  the  crossing  of  the  Seine,  the  body  of  Parisians  of 
whom,  doubtless,  the  horde  of  women  was  the  van- 
guard. But  Necker  opposed  all  resistance ;  he  said 
that  if  the  sword  were  drawn  against  the  insurrec- 
tion, it  would  be  the  signal  for  civil  war;  he  pre- 
ferred treating  with  the  revolt,  as  from  one  power  to 
another. 

Meanwhile  the  women  had  got  into  the  Avenue 
de  Paris,  singing,  "  Long  live  Henri  IV. !  "  and  shout- 
ing as  if  in  derision,  "  Long  live  the  King !  "  When 
they  reached  the  Menus  Plaisirs,  where  the  National 
Assembly  was  sitting,  they  stopped.  At  first  fifteen 
of  them  entered  the  meeting  and  were  conducted  to 
the  bar.  Maillard  spoke  in  their  name,  saying  that 
Paris  was  Avithout  bread,  and  that  some  means  must 
be  devised  for  finding  a  supply.  Then  the  rest  of 
the  women  crowded  into  the  hall.  The  galleries,  the 
bar,  the  deputies'  seats,  were  filled  with  a  noisy,  loud- 
talking  multitude,  who  interrupted  the  members, 
insulting  those  of  the  right,  and  fraternizing  with 
those  of  the  left. 

The  Prince  of  Luxembourg,  a  captain  of  the  body- 


THE  FIFTH  OF  OCTOBER.  251 

guard,  asked  Louis  XVI.  if  lie  had  any  orders  to 
give  about  repelling  the  onslaught.  "  What,  sir," 
answered  the  good-natured  monarch,  "orders  to  fight 
women  !  You  are  jesting ! "  The  body-guard,  which 
was  drawn  up  ready  for  action,  was  forbidden  to  lay 
a  hand  on  sabre  or  pistol.  Commands  were  given 
to  avoid  anything  that  might  provoke  the  populace. 
The  rioters,  who  kept  coming  in  large  numbers,  felt 
confidence  in  their  security.  They  went  up  to  the 
gates  of  the  palace,  in  a  rage  at  finding  them  closed, 
and  threw  stones  at  the  body-guard,  who  had  no 
cartridges  and  had  been  ordered  not  to  defend  them- 
selves. At  the  same  time  women  surrounded  the 
regiment  from  Flanders  and  tried  to  corrupt  the 
men.  One  of  them,  Thdroigne  de  M^ricourt,  who 
wore  a  red  cloak,  went  through  the  ranks,  flattering 
the  soldiers  and  distributing  money. 

Soon  afterwards,  Mounier  left  the  National  Assem- 
bly, followed  by  a  deputation  of  the  women  of  Paris, 
whom  he  led  to  the  palace.  The  rain  was  falling  in 
torrents.  The  Avenue  de  Paris  was  filled  with  a 
threatening  crowd.  The  rioters  in  vain  tried  to  force 
the  gates.  Only  Mounier  and  the  deputation  of 
women  were  admitted. 

The  King,  who  was  at  the  council  with  his  Minis- 
ters, went,  to  his  bedroom  to  receive  these  strange 
visitors.  Only  five  women  were  admitted.  A  young 
girl  of  seventeen,  named  Louise  Chabry,  spoke  for 
them.  "You  ought  to  know  my  heart,"  answered 
the  King ;  "  I  shall  give  orders  to  collect  all  the  bread 


252  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


that  can  be  found."  Louise  Chabry  was  so  much 
moved  by  the  King's  kindness  that  she  fainted. 
Louis  XVI.  made  her  drink  some  wine  and  held  salts 
to  her  nose.  She  recovered  consciousness,  and  the 
King  kissed  her.  The  delegates  were  delighted  with 
the  reception  accorded  them,  and  went  down  the 
marble  staircase,  shouting,  "  Long  live  the  King ! " 
and  when  they  saw  the  other  women  outside  the  grat- 
ing, they  said,  "  We  have  got  what  we  wanted ;  we 
are  going  back  to  Paris."  These  wise  words  did  not 
please  the  crowd.  Cries  arose :  "  They  have  sold  out 
to  the  court !  They  have  received  twenty-five  louis 
apiece !  To  the  lantern  with  them !  "  They  sprang 
upon  the  unhappy  women,  struck  them,  and  tried  to 
hang  them.  They  escaped  with  difficulty.  The  dis- 
order increased  with  every  moment.  The  general 
alarm,  which  was  beaten  in  every  street,  called 
together  the  National  Guard  of  Versailles  in  the 
Place  d'Armes;  but  many  of  its  members,  intimi- 
dated by  the  hostility  manifested  by  certain  compa- 
nies against  the  body-guard,  withdrew. 

In  the  palace,  every  one  was  overwhelmed  with 
anxiety.  There  could  be  heard  the  vile  abuse  poured 
forth  on  Marie  Antoinette  by  the  frantic  crowd.  Or- 
ders were  given  to  prepare  for  the  departure  of  the 
Queen  and  the  Daupliin.  The  King's  carriages  left 
the  stables  and  drove  to  the  door  of  the  Orange  house, 
while  the  Queen's,  starting  from  the  rue  de  la  Pompe 
at  the  same  time,  reached  the  Dragon's  gate.  Here 
a  hostile  band  of  the  National  Guard  compelled  the 


THE  FIFTH  OF  OCTOBER.  253 

coaclimeii  to  go  back  to  the  stables.  Moreover,  Marie 
Antoinette  had  not  been  informed  of  her  proposed 
departure ;  and  on  no  consideration  would  she  have 
left  the  King.  Her  energetic  and  haughty  nature 
would  have  repelled  every  plan  that  savored  of 
timidity. 

Night  was  coming  on,  and  the  rain  continued  to 
fall,  exciting  hope  in  the  palace  that  the  bad  weather 
would  allay  the  excitement  and  disperse  the  rioters. 
At  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  all  the  troops 
drawn  up  in  the  Place  d'Armes  received  orders  to 
withdraw.  The  regiment  from  Flanders  left  the 
place,  and  marched  to  the  courtyard  of  the  Great 
Stables.  The  body-guard  then  proceeded  to  their 
quarters,  followed  by  the  jeers  of  the  multitude.  In 
the  night  they  left  for  Trianon,  then  for  Rambouillet. 
There  remained  at  Versailles  only  the  sentinels  on 
duty,  who  were  to  play  so  tragic  a  part  in  the  events 
of  the  following  day. 

The  town  presented  a  most  gloomy  and  alarming 
appearance.  All  the  shops,  except  those  of  the  bakers 
and  a  few  wine-sellers,  were  closed.  The  night  was 
very  dark.  The  inhabitants  scarcely  dared  to  set 
foot  out  of  doors.  Ragged  men,  armed  with  staves 
and  pikes,  knocked  at  every  door,  demanding  food 
and  drink.  The  women  from  Paris  continued  to  fill 
the  National  Assembly,  which  looked  like  a  theatre 
on  a  day  of  free  admission.  They  sent  out  for  bread, 
wine,  and  meat,  and  ate  and  slept  on  the  benches  of 
the  deputies.     A  certain  number  of  the  representa- 


254  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

tives  remained  in  the  Hall;  and  in  Mounier's  ab- 
sence, the  President's  chair  was  taken  by  the  Bishop 
of  Langres,  who,  in  spite  of  his  ecclesiastical  dignity, 
had  to  submit  to  being  kissed  by  a  number  of  women 
more  or  less  drunk.  Suddenly,  towards  midnight,  a 
great  piece  of  news  spread:  the  National  Guard  of 
Paris  and  its  commander,  La  Fayette,  had  just  arrived 
in  Versailles. 

Ever  since  morning  La  Fayette  had  been  the  prey 
of  the  keenest  anguish.  At  daybreak  a  number  of 
battalions  had  surrounded  the  H6tel  de  Ville,  and 
instead  of  trying  to  quell  the  outbreak,  had  been 
themselves  shouting  all  day  long,  "  To  Versailles,  to 
Versailles !  "  La  Fayette  hesitated.  Should  he  obey 
the  demands  of  his  mutinous  soldiers,  or  should  he, 
as  it  were,  sanctify  the  rebellion  by  his  presence? 
Should  he,  by  resistance,  compromise  the  popularity 
which  he  had  acquired  by  so  many  sacrifices  ?  "  It  is 
singular,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  National  Guard,  "that 
M.  de  La  Fayette  should  think  of  commanding  the 
people,  when  in  fact  it  is  the  people  who  command 
him."  Cries  for  blood  and  accusations  of  treachery 
began  to  be  heard. 

The  Commune  at  last  gave  the  National  Guard 
orders  to  start.  It  was  six  in  the  morning.  La  Fay- 
ette was  on  horseback,  his  head  bowed,  his  heart  full 
of  gloomy  forebodings,  and  after  a  few  moments'  hesi- 
tation he  made  up  his  mind,  and  as  if  urged  by  a  power 
he  could  not  resist,  he  shouted,  "  Forward,  march ! " 

The    lot    was    thrown.      Twenty   thousand    men 


THE  FIFTH  OF  OCTOBEB.  255 

marched  forth.  The  vanguard  consisted  of  three 
companies  of  grenadiers,  a  battalion  of  fusiliers,  and 
three  cannon.  Seven  or  eight  hundred  men,  bare- 
armed,  and  hoarse  with  drink,  followed,  carrying 
staves  or  pikes.  Then  came  La  Fayette,  the  servant 
rather  than  the  commander  of  his  troops.  An  aide 
galloped  ahead  to  announce  to  the  King  the  advance 
of  the  National  Guard;  he  reached  Versailles  at 
about  ten  in  the  evening,  and  found  the  whole  court 
in  alarm.  The  Queen  alone  was  undaunted ;  during 
the  evening  she  had  been  receiving  a  number  of  peo- 
ple and  had  talked  with  energy  and  dignity,  giving 
strength  to  others  by  her  calm  and  courage. 

Towards  midnight  the  National  Guard  of  Paris 
reached  the  gates  of  Versailles.  Before  entering  the 
town,  La  Fayette  stopped  a  moment  and  administered 
to  his  troops  the  oath  of  loyalty  to  the  nation,  the 
laws,  and  the  King.  Then  he  entered  the  Avenue 
de  Paris,  in  which  was  the  hall  where  the  National 
Assembly  met,  and  assured  the  President  of  the 
pacific  intentions  of  his. troops.  Then  leaving  the 
Assembly,  he  betook  himself  to  the  palace,  which 
he  entered  with  only  two  members  of  the  municipal 
government  of  Paris.  The  rooms  were  crowded ;  a 
voice  shouted,  "  There's  Cromwell  I  " 

''  Sir,"  answered  La  Fayette,  "  Cromwell  would  not 
have  come  alone."  . 

The  court  was  in  doubt  whether  the  man  who 
came  in  this  way  was  a  liberator  or  a  tyrant,  whether 
he  came  to  save  or  to  overthrow  the  King.     La  Fay- 


256  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

ette  advanced  in  an  attitude  of  grief  and  respect. 
He  bowed  low  before  Louis  XVI.,  and  said,  "  Sire,  I 
have  come  to  bring  you  my  head  to  save  Your  Majes- 
ty's." And  he  added  that  he  felt  confident  of  the 
sentiments  of  the  National  Guard.  Louis  XVI.,  who 
was  hopeful  by  nature,  believed  La  Fayette,  who, 
for  his  part,  meant  what  he  said.  It  was  agreed  that 
the  interior  of  the  palace  should  be  left  in  charge  of 
the  sentinels  on  duty,  and  that  the  National  Guard 
should  take  charge  of  the  outside.  La  Fayette  went 
out  to  see  about  carrying  out  this  order.  Then  he 
returned  to  the  Assembly  which,  in  a  night  session, 
was  discussing  a  proposed  penal  law.  He  said  that 
he  would  be  responsible  for  everything,  and  that 
order  would  be  maintained. 

President  Mounier,  satisfied  with  this  optimistic 
utterance,  adjourned  the  session  at  three  in  the 
morning,  and  La  Fayette  went  back  to  the  palace, 
where  he  heard  that  the  King  had  gone  to  bed,  and 
that  all  was  quiet.  Then  he  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  through  the  town,  which  was  perfectly  calm. 
He  then  went  back  to  the  palace  and  stayed  there,  in 
the  rooms  of  M.  Montmorin,  until  six  the  next  morn- 
ing, when,  utterly  exhausted,  after  being  on  horse- 
back for  seventeen  hours,  repose  was  necessary. 
After  a  last  look  at  the  town  he  went  to  the  house 
belonging  to  his  wife's  family,  in  the  rue  de  la 
Pompe,  and  lay  down  on  a  bed.  His  sleep,  w^hich 
lasted  only  a  few  moments,  has  been  the  subject  of 
severe  condemnation  from  historians. 


XXVII. 


THE   SIXTH   OF   OCTOBER. 


YERSAILLES    was   at   last    finding    rest:    the 
^  royal  family  in  the  palace ;  La  Fayette  in  the 

Noailles  mansion ;  the  National  Guard  of  Paris,  wet 
through  with  the  rain,  and  worn  out  by  a  march  to 
which  it  was  not  accustomed,  in  the  churches,  the 
quarters  of  the  body-guard,  and  in  private  houses ; 
the  women  and  the  men,  with  pikes,  on  the  benches 
of  the  National  Assembly,  in  the  barracks  of  the 
French  Guards,  and  the  wine-shops.  Those  of  the 
populace  who  had  no  refuge  had  lit  a  large  fire  in 
the  Place  d'Armes,  and  after  cutting  up  and  roasting 
a  wounded  horse,  had  quietly  fallen  asleep  in  this 
improvised  bivouac.  * 

Marie  Antoinette,  worn  out  by  the  emotions  of 
this  painful  day,  had  gone  to  bed  at  two  in  the  morn- 
ing. Before  she  went  to  sleep,  she  had  told  the  two 
ladies  of  her  bedchamber,  Madame  Augui^  and 
Madame  Thibaut,  to  go  to  their  beds,  thinking  that 
for  this  night,  at  least,  there  was  nothing  to  fear.  She 
owed  her  life  the  next  day  to  the  devotion  which  pre- 
vented these  two  ladies  from  obeying  this  command. 
All  the  lights  were  out,  and  Marie  Antoinette  was 

267 


258  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

sound  asleep.  The  sleep  which  precedes  a  battle  or 
a  riot  is  an  imposing  thing,  in  the  contrast  that  exists 
between  its  calm  and  the  excitement  and  danger  of 
the  next  day ;  for  many  it  is  the  last  sleep  of  their 
lives,  a  prelude  to  the  sleep  of  death,  and  there  is 
something  most  impressive  in  its  mysteriousness.  It 
is  like  a  heaven-sent  truce. 

Not  every  one  in  Versailles  enjoyed  this  truce  in 
the  night  between  the  5th  and  6th  of  October.  Every- 
thing was  at  rest,  except  crime.  The  revolt  had  not 
yet  completed  its  task ;  and  these  demons,  these  dis- 
guised brigands,  who  were  shouting  for  bread  when 
their  pockets  were  full  of  gold,  had  not  yet  earned 
their  pay.  No,  there  was  no  sleep  —  for  hate  knows 
no  fatigue  —  for  the  furies  who  had  sworn  to  cut  off 
Marie  Antoinette's  neck  on  a  milestone,  and  to  dip 
their  hands  in  her  blood.  At  the  Assembly,  one  wild- 
eyed  woman  had  asked,  with  threatening  gestures, 
brandishing  a  dagger,  if  the  Austrian  woman's  apart- 
ments were  well  guarded. 

That  evening  the  men  with  pikes  had  made  a  great 
tumult  in  the  Place  d'Armes,  shouting  to  the  respect- 
able people  who  tried  to  quiet  them,  "Go  to  bed ;  as 
for  us,  we  haven't  finished  our  work."  They  were 
waiting  for  daylight. 

Let  us,  in  company  with  M.  Le  Roi,  a  learned 
guide,  a  real  student,  examine  the  scene  of  the  events 
which  were  about  to  take  place. ^     Let  us  first  look  at 

1  History  of  Versailles :  its  Streets,  Squares  and  Avenues  from 
the  Origin  of  the  City  to  the  Present  Time. 


THE  SIXTH  OF  OCTOBER.  259 

the  palace,  as  well  as  at  all  the  gratings  of  the  en- 
trances which  had  been  closed  on  the  5th  of  October, 
and  had  kept  out  the  populace,  but,  the  next  day, 
was  to  give  free  passage  to  the  rioters. 

At  the  present  day  we  can  pass  through  the  wide 
gateway  opening  on  the  Place  d'Armes,  and  enter  at 
once  the  huge  courtyard  which  extends  to  the  palace. 

In  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  there  was,  in  addition, 
a  second  grating  between  the  two  wings  of  the  palace, 
just  about  where  now  stands  the  equestrian  statue  of 
Louis  XIV. 

The  space  between  the  two  gratings  was  called  the 
Ministers'  Courtyard,  from  the  buildings  on  each  side 
in  which  the  ministers  lodged. 

Then,  as  now,  there  was  an  iron  gate  opening  on 
the  rue  des  Reservoirs,  and  another  opening  on  the 
rue  de  la  Surintendance  (now  the  rue  de  la  Bib- 
lioth^que). 

Beyond  the  courtyard  of  the  Ministers  was  the 
Royal  Courtyard,  extending  to  the  narrow  space  be- 
tween the  old  buildings  of  the  palace  of  Louis  XIIL, 
then,  as  now,  called  the  Marble  Courtyard,  from  the 
pavement. 

Let  us  first  notice  the  insufficiency  of  La  Fayette's 
defensive  measures,  and  the  absence  of  any  excuse 
for  his  fatal  confidence.  During  the  whole  of  the 
5th,  the  gateway  of  the  Ministers'  Courtyard  was  the 
point  attacked  by  the  populace,  furious  at  finding 
this  barrier.  Well  I  Who  guarded  this  gate  which 
was  of  such  importance  for  the  defence  of  the  pal- 


260  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

ace  ?  Two  soldiers  of  the  National  Guard !  Who 
protected  the  entrance  of  the  marble  staircase  lead- 
ing to  the  royal  apartments  ?  Two  Swiss  soldiers ! 
Why  was  it  that  the  royal  battalions  of  the  National 
Guard,  which  certainly  contained  trusty  men,  were 
not  ordered  to  defend  the  approaches  to  the  palace  ? 

Why  was  it  that  their  commander,  instead  of  going 
to  rest  in  the  rue  de  la  Pompe,  did  not  stay  in  the 
palace,  near  his  King,  at  the  post  of  duty  and  of 
honor  ?  Without  doubt.  La  Fayette  was  no  traitor  ; 
but,  like  men  of  his  political  complexion,  he  was 
absurdly  optimistic,  and  he  did  not  dread  the  danger 
which  lay  before  his  eyes.  He  lay  down  in  good 
faith,  and  when  he  awoke  from  his  short  sleep,  he 
was  overcome  with  surprise  at  events  which  any  one 
else  would  have  foreseen. 

At  half-past  five  in  the  morning,  a  great  number  of 
women  suddenly  made  their  appearance  in  the  Place 
d'Armes.  Many  of  them  went  up  to  the  first  gate- 
way, that  leading  to  the  Ministers'  Courtyard,  and 
the  two  National  Guards  who  were  stationed  there 
opened  the  gate.  The  men,  armed  with  pikes,  at 
once  followed,  and  the  courtyard  was  filled.  The 
crowd  saw  that  the  gate  of  the  Princes'  Courtyard 
(the  one  leading  to  the  middle  of  the  palace,  where 
dwelt  the  princes  of  the  blood)  was  open,  and  the 
populace  hastened  thither,  and  entered  the  park  by  a 
door  at  the  foot  of  the  princes'  staircase.  At  that 
moment,  Marie  Antoinette  was  awakened  by  the 
noise  beneath  her  windows.     She  rang  for  Madame 


THE  SIXTH  OF  OCTOBER.  261 

Thibaut,  and  asked  the  meaning  of  this  tumult.  Mad- 
ame Thibaut  replied  that  it  was  the  women  from  Paris, 
who,  probably,  not  being  able  to  find  any  quarters, 
were  walking  on  the  terrace.  Then  she  withdrew; 
and  the  Queen,  satisfied,  remained  in  bed. 

The  Royal  Court  was  still  secure.  The  mayor  of  the 
body-guard,  M.  d'Aguesseau,  had  just  placed  many 
guards  in  the  passage  of  the  colonnade  leading  from 
the  Princes'  Courtyard  to  the  Royal  Courtyard ;  but 
those  soldiers  were  too  few  to  make  any  resistance, 
and  the  wave  of  rioters  drove  them  back ;  the  Royal 
Courtyard  was  invaded;  one  of  the  body-guard,  a 
man  named  Deshuttes,  was  disarmed  in  front  of  the 
gateway,  struck  down,  and  dragged,  dying,  to  the  end 
of  the  Ministers'  Courtyard.  A  ragpicker  named  Jour- 
dan  placed  his  foot  on  his  chest,  and  cut  off  his  head 
with  an  axe.  This  head  Avas  stuck  on  the  point  of  a 
pike,  and  paraded  through  the  streets  as  a  trophy  of  the 
insurrection,  and  the  victim's  body  was  carried  to  the 
barracks  of  the  French  Guard,  and  thrown  on  the  straw. 

At  the  same  time,  the  crowd  made  a  violent  at- 
tack on  the  marble  staircase,  which  is  near  the  Mar- 
ble Courtyard,  and  led  to  the  apartments  of  the  King 
and  Queen.  At  the  top,  facing  the  staircase,  was  the 
great  hall  of  the  Guards.  To  the  left,  a  landing  led 
to  the  hall  of  the  King's  Guards ;  then  came  the 
King's  ante-chamber,  then  the  hall  of  the  CEil  de 
Boeuf,  then  the  bedroom  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  Minis- 
ters' Council  Hall ;  and  finally,  at  the  right  of  this 
hall,  the  bedroom  of  Louis  XVL 


262  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

On  the  right  of  the  marble  staircase  was  a  door 
leading  to  Marie  Antoinette's  apartments :  first,  is 
the  hall  of  the  Guards ;  the  first  ante-chamber,  called 
also  the  drawing-room  of  the  Grand  Convert ;  the  sec- 
ond ante-chamber,  called  the  Queen's  drawing-room ; 
then  her  bedroom. 

The  marble  staircase  was  defended  by  only  two 
men  of  the  Hundred  Swiss  Guards.  The  crowd 
mounted  the  staircase,  and  one  of  the  body-guard, 
M.  Miomandre  de  Sainte-Marie,  went  down  three  or 
four  steps,  saying,  "  My  friends,  you  love  your  King, 
and  you  come  to  disturb  him  in  his  palace."  The 
rioters  sprang  on  this  loyal  servant,  and  nearly  killed 
him.  Then  the  body-guards,  seeing  that  they  could 
not  withstand  the  onslaught,  took  refuge,  some  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  Guards,  the  others  in  the  hall  of 
the  King's  Guards.  At  the  same  moment  the  door 
between  the  marble  staircase  and  the  hall  of  the 
Queen's  Guards  was  burst  open,  and  the  rioters 
rushed  in,  calling  for  the  death  of  Marie  Antoinette. 
One  of  the  guards  on  duty  as  sentinel  before  the 
door  of  the  first  ante-chamber,  M.  de  Varicourt,  was 
struck  from  behind,  and  fell  bleeding;  the  crowd 
seized  him,  hustled  him  down  the  staircase,  and 
dragged  him  through  the  Princes'  Gate  into  the 
Ministers'  Courtyard.  He  was  still  living,  and  strug- 
gling with  his  assassins,  when  Jourdan,  the  ragpicker, 
ran  up,  and  with  his  axe,  still  dripping  with  the  blood 
of  M.  Deshuttes,  cut  off  his  head. 

Another  one  of  the  guard,  M.  du  Repaire,  took  M. 


THE  SIXTH  OF  OCTOBEB.  263 

de  Varicourt's  place  at  the  entrance  of  the  first  ante- 
chamber. They  rushed  upon  him;  but  after  a  long 
struggle,  he  managed  to  reach  the  hall  of  the  King's 
Guards,  covered  with  wounds;  just  as  the  door 
closed  behind  him,  a  pistol-shot  laid  low  one  of  the 
assailants.  M.  Miomandre  de  Sainte-Marie,  who  had 
sought  refuge  in  the  embrasure  of  one  of  the  windows 
of  the  great  hall  of  the  Guards,  hastened  to  take  M. 
de  Varicourt's  place  in  the  hall  of  the  Queen's  Guards, 
at  the  door  of  the  first  ante-chamber.  He  opened  the 
door  quickly  and  saw  Madame  Thibaut;  to  her  he 
said,  "Save  the  Queen;  they  want  to  kill  her." 
'Then  he  closed  the  door,  and  the  two  ladies  of  the 
bedchamber,  Madame  Thibaut  and  Madame  Augui^, 
who  were  in  the  Queen's  drawing-room,  bolted  it. 
Then  the  wretches  attacked  M.  Miomandre  de  Sainte- 
Marie.  One  of  them  felled  him,  bleeding,  to  the 
ground  with  the  butt-end  of  a  musket.  They 
thought  he  was  killed,  and  stole  his  watch ;  then 
they  hastened  to  the  great  hall  to  seize  the  weapons 
of  the  body-guard.  M.  de  Sainte-Marie  came  to  him- 
self and  saw  that  he  was  alone ;  he  dragged  himself 
to  the  landing  and  made  his  way  to  his  companions 
in  the  hall  of  the  King's  Guards. 

Meanwhile  Madame  Thibaut  had  made  the  Queen 
get  up  and  hurried  her  into  her  stockings  and  petti- 
coat, and  thrown  a  cloak  over  her  shoulders.  At  the 
end  of  the  bedroom,  near  the  bed,  was  a  secret  door, 
opening  on  a  dark  passage-way,  which  led  to  the  hall 
of  the  (Eil  de  Boeuf.    At  the  entrance  of  this  passage- 


264  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

way  was  a  little  staircase  leading  to  a  passage  known 
as  the  King's  passage-way,  which  communicated  with 
the  King's  bedroom,  enabling  him  thus  to  go  to  the 
Queen's  room  unobserved.  Marie  Antoinette,  accom- 
panied by  the  two  ladies  of  her  bedchamber,  passed 
out  through  the  door  at  the  foot  of  her  bed,  made  her 
way  to  the  passage  leading  to  the  CEil  de  Boeuf,  and 
knocked  at  the  door  there,  which  was  opened  by  the 
footmen  of  Louis  XVI.,  and  entered  the  King's  apart- 
ment. 

At  the  same  time  Louis  XVI.,  full  of  anxiety  for 
his  wife  and  children,  had  wanted  to  go  to  the  Queen. 
He  had  taken  the  other  passage-way,  and  reached,  her 
room  just  as  she  had  left  it.  The  guards  told  him, 
and  he  returned  the  same  way  to  his  own  chamber, 
where  he  found  the  Queen  and  the  Dauphin,  who  had 
just  been  brought  by  Madame  de  Tourzel,  the  govern- 
ess of  the  royal  children. 

Meanwhile  the  National  Guard  began  to  enter  the 
palace ;  the  first  to  arrive  was  a  detachment  that  had 
passed  the  night  in  the  Church  of  the  Franciscans  ;  it 
ascended  the  staircase  and  rescued  the  members  of 
the  body-guard  who  had  sought  refuge  in  the  hall 
of  the  (Eil  de  Boeuf. 

After  a  few  moments'  sleep,  of  which  it  will  be 
said  that  "he  slept  just  long  enough  to  ruin  the 
King,"  La  Fayette  woke  up  in  the  Noailles  mansion. 
He  did  not  wait  for  a  horse  to  be  brought,  but  started 
at  once  for  the  palace  on  foot,  and  proceeded  to  en- 
courage his  men  to  quell  the  disorder.     Louis  XVI. 


THE  SIXTH  OF  OCTOBER.  265 

himself  thanked  the  members  of  the  National  Guard 
who  had  saved  the  lives  of  his  body-guard;  then, 
always  calm  and  self-controlled,  he  called  the  minis- 
ters together  in  the  Council  Hall.  The  Queen,  the 
Dauphin,  Madame  Royale,  Madame  Elisabeth,  the 
Count  of  Provence,  the  aunts,  were  all  collected  in 
the  King's  bedroom.  The  Dauphin  said  to  his  mother, 
"  Mamma,  I'm  hungry."  "  Be  patient,"  answered 
Marie  Antoinette ;  "  this  will  soon  be  over." 

The  palace  courtyards  were  filled  with  battalions 
of  the  National  Guard  and  with  the  populace.  Marie 
Antoinette  stood,  perfectly  calm,  at  a  window,  looking 
out  on  the  vast  throng.  While  every  one  about  her 
was  giving  way  to  tears  or  despair,  she  did  not  lose 
her  head  for  a  moment,  but  consoled  and  encouraged 
every  one. 

Louis  XVI.  went  out  on  the  balcony,  with  the 
same  air  of  confidence  and  kindness  that  he  always 
wore.  Cries  of  "The  Queen,  the  Queen!"  were 
heard.  La  Fayette  advised  Marie  Antoinette  to  show 
herself ;  he  said  it  was  the  only  way  to  allay  the  ex- 
citement. "  Very  well,"  answered  the  Queen,  "  if  I 
have  to  go  to  my  execution,  I  shall  not  hesitate ;  I 
will  go."  What  was  to  take  place  ?  What  was  to  be 
expected  of  these  men,  drunk,  and  wild  with  wrath, 
uttering  angry  cries  and  carrying  loaded  muskets  ? 
Would  the  assassins  of  the  body-guard  hesitate  at 
the  murder  of  a  woman,  a  queen  ?  It  was  a  solemn 
moment.  Marie  Antoinette,  pale,  with  dishevelled 
hair,  appeared   at   the  balcony  of   the  King's  room. 


266  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

accompanied  by  La  Fayette,  and  holding  the  Dauphin 
with  one  hand,  her  daughter  with  the  other.  Tlie 
cries  redoubled ;  shouts  of  "  No  children !  No  chil- 
dren !  The  Queen  alone ! "  arose  from  all  sides. 
What  did  this  uproar  mean  ?  Did  the  demons  who 
filled  the  place  fear  that  the  sight  of  the  children 
would  touch  their  hearts?  Did  the  murderers  who 
would  gladly  have  slain  the  mother  hesitate  about 
killing  a  boy  and  a  girl  ?  Without  thinking  about 
the  probable  evil  significance  of  these  shouts,  Marie 
Antoinette  gave  the  Dauphin  and  his  sister  to  their 
father ;  then  she  came  out  alone,  fearless,  heroic,  and 
calmly  letting  her  eyes  run  over  the  multitude,  folded 
her  arms. 

It  was  the  daughter  of  the  Caesars  who  appeared. 
The  noble  haughtiness  of  her  brow,  the  dignity  of  her 
bearing,  wrung  from  the  crowd  a  shout  of  admiration 
and  surprise.  Even  those  who,  a  moment  before, 
wanted  to  kill  her,  joined  in  the  cry.  A  loud  roar  of 
"  Long  live  the  Queen !  "  burst  forth.  Marie  Antoi- 
nette was  not  the  dupe  of  this  greeting ;  she  heard 
the  crowd  shouting  another  alarming  cry :  "  To  Paris 
with  the  King ! "  and,  leaving  the  balcony,  she  went 
up  to  Madame  Necker,  and  said  sadly,  "They  are 
going  to  make  the  King  and  me  go  to  Paris,  with  the 
heads  of  our  guards  carried  before  us  on  the  ends  of 
their  pikes." 

Louis  XVI.,  always  weakly  good-natured,  decided 
to  obey  this  insolent  demand  of  the  populace.  All 
that  he  asked  was  that  he  should  not  be  separated 


THE  SIXTH  OF  OCTOBER.  267 

from  his  wife  and  children.  La  Fayette  went  out  on 
the  balcony  with  one  of  the  body-guard,  and  made 
him  take  an  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  nation  and  show 
the  side  of  his  hat  on  which  was  fastened  the  tricolor 
cockade.  The  other  guards  followed  this  example. 
The  grenadiers  of  the  National  Guard  put  their  hats 
on  the  end  of  their  bayonets,  and  every  one  shouted, 
"Long  live  the  body-guard!  " 

At  the  same  time  letters  were  thrown  from  the 
palace  windows,  announcing  that  the  King  was  going 
to  leave  for  Paris,  and  the  National  Guard  gave 
expression  to  its  delight  by  firing  many  rounds  of 
musketry.  When  the  Assembly  heard  the  news,  it 
passed  a  vote,  on  the  motion  of  Mirabeau,  that  it 
could  not  be  separated  from  the  King.  Louis  XVI., 
when  the  vote  was  communicated  to  him,  said :  "  It 
is  with  sincere  emotion  that  I  receive  this  new  proof 
of  the  attachment  of  the  Assembly.  The  wish  of  my 
heart,  as  you  know,  is  never  to  be  separated  from 
you.  I  am  going  to  Paris  with  the  Queen  and  m}^ 
children.  I  shall  give  all  necessary  orders  for  the 
continuation  of  the  Assembly's  work." 

The  preparations  for  the  departure  of  the  royal 
family  were  speedily  completed.  The  King,  the 
Queen,  Madame  Elisabeth,  the  Dauphin,  the  King's 
brother,  Madame  Royale,  and  Madame  Tourzel,  all 
got  into  the  same  carriage.  It  was  one  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon. 

Such  are  vicissitudes  of  fate !  It  was  there  on  the 
balcony  of  the  great  King's  chamber,  that  absolute 


268  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

monarchy  expired,  that  divine  right  of  which  he 
was  the  proudest  representative  I  Such  the  muta- 
bility of  life  I  It  is  this  Place  d'Armes,  where  used 
to  be  deployed  the  military  splendor  and  the  royal 
pomp,  that  had  become  the  scene  of  the  last  humil- 
iations of  royalty!  The  proud  river  was  ending  in 
sand. 

It  was  all  over ;  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette 
were  departing,  never  to  return.  Farewell,  Versailles ! 
Farewell  to  the  magnificent  palace  with  its  bright  gal- 
leries and  solemn  chapel !  Farewell  to  the  park,  to 
its  statues,  to  its  mighty  trees  !  The  King  and  the 
Queen  were  vanquished,  and  never  was  the  Revolu- 
tion to  let  them  see  again  their  former  palace.  All 
that  was  to  be  allowed  them  was  to  see  its  towers  in 
the  distance,  as  if  it  were  an  Eden  from  which  they 
had  been  driven,  not  by  angels,  but  by  devils. 

The  procession  started.  The  van  consisted  of  the 
men  and  women  who  had  left  Paris  the  evening  be- 
fore. The  women  wore  the  tricolor  cockades  in  their 
caps;  the  men  waved  in  triumph  the  arms  they  had 
captured  from  the  body-guard.  A  great  many  of 
the  rioters  were  in  cabs ;  others  in  carts,  or  riding  on 
the  cannon.  Then  followed  sixty  wagons  filled  with 
flour  taken  from  the  market  in  Versailles.  Women, 
carrying  branches,  shouted  out,  "We  are  bringing  the 
baker,  the  baker's  wife,  and  the  baker's  little  boy." 

After  the  wagons  came  the  battalions  of  the 
National  Guard,  surrounded  by  the  populace ;  then 
the  body-guard,  disarmed,  humiliated,  with  torn  uni- 


THE  SIXTH  OF  OCTOBEB.  269 

forms,  like  captives  in  ancient  triumphs,  tokens  of 
the  victory  of  the  insurrection ;  then  the  large 
carriage  containing  the  royal  family:  La  Fayette  and 
M.  d'Estaing,  the  commander  of  the  National  Guard 
of  Versailles,  rode,  one  on  each  side  of  the  carriage. 
A  noisy  crowd  clung  close  to  the  carriage.  There 
were  but  few  cries  of  "  Long  live  the  King ! " 
Everywhere  rose  shouts  of  "  Long  live  the  Nation ! 
Down  with  the  black  caps !  To  the  lantern  with  the 
bishops  !  "  As  if  in  mockery,  a  magnificent  sun  shone 
on  this  funeral  procession  of  royalty.  The  weather, 
which  had  been  abominable  the  day  before,  was 
delightful  on  that  day.  While  authority,  discipline, 
honor,  everything  that  makes  a  nation's  power  and 
glory,  had  been  insulted  in  the  person  of  the  son  of 
Saint  Louis,  of  Henri  IV.,  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  autumn 
was  glowing  with  its  last  splendor,  the  birds  were 
singing  in  the  woods  of  Viroflay.  The  majesty  of 
nature  seemed  to  protest  by  its  calm  against  human 
agitation  and  folly. 

After  a  journey  of  seven  hours,  the  royal  family 
was  to  sleep  that  night  in  Paris,  in  its  palace,  or 
rather  in  its  prison.  The  drama  of  Versailles  was 
over ;  the  drama  of  the  Tuileries  was  beginning. 


EPILOGUE. 

VERSAILLES    SINCE   1789. 

AT  Versailles,  the  morning  of  October  6,  1789, 
everything  was  noise,  tumult,  and  excitement ; 
that  evening  all  was  peace  and  silence.  The  town, 
wearied  by  what  it  had  gone  through,  was  sadly  rest- 
ing. The  palace  was  deserted.  A  few  enthusiastic 
demagogues  only  seemed  happy.  The  vast  majority 
of  the  inhabitants  foresaw  the  future,  and  understood 
that  the  departure  of  the  King  meant  the  ruin  of 
Versailles.  This  town,  once  so  brilliant,  sank  into 
gloom,  and  its  population  diminished ;  widowed  of 
the  court,  it  wore  a  sombre  aspect.  A  Russian 
traveller  who  visited  it  in  1790  was  struck  by  its 
desolation.  He  says  that  he  had  to  wait  two  hours 
for  a  wretched  meal,  and  that  then  his  hostess  said 
to  him,  "  These  are  hard  times,  sir ;  everybody  is  suf- 
fering, and  you  must  have  your  share."  He  adds 
that  in  the  trees  of  Trianon,  "  the  birds  still  sing 
their  love-songs ;  they  sing,  but,  alas,  no  longer  in  the 
presence  of  kings  !  No  one  listens  to  them  except  a 
few  foreigners  who  come  to  the  park  to  meditate." 
The  Revolution  bore  an  especial   grudge    against 

270 


VERSAILLES  SINCE  1789.  2T1 

the  former  sanctuary  of  the  monarchy.  Vandalism 
was  more  common  there  than  anywhere  else.  Octo- 
ber 20,  1792,  Roland  sent  to  the  Convention  a  letter 
requesting  permission  to  sell  the  furniture  of  the 
palace.  The  deputy  Manual  proposed,  in  addition, 
placing  a  sign  on  the  palace,  bearing  these  words : 
"This  house  for  sale  or  to  let."  The  Convention 
authorized  the  sale  of  the  furniture,  and  referred 
the  other  proposition  to  a  committee.  In  1794,  the 
administration  of  the  district  of  Versailles  "  informs 
its  fellow-citizens  that  the  Little  Trianon,  which  has 
too  long  been  withheld  from  agriculture,  and  devoted 
to  the  luxury  of  tyrants  and  their  lackeys,  a  constant 
insult  to  the  misery  of  the  people,  is  about  to  be  re- 
stored to  cultivation."  The  eighteen  acres  of  the 
little  park  had  been  already  divided  into  ten  lots, 
and  it  was  only  by  the  merest  chance  that  the  work 
of  destruction  was  not  completed.  The  park  still 
exists;  but  what  has  become  of  the  Little  Trianon 
palace,  that  pretty  temple  of  which  Marie  Antoinette 
was  the  deity  ?  The  drawing-room  furniture,  in  blue 
silk,  stuffed  with  eiderdown,  the  bed  covered  with 
white  silk  lace,  the  curtains  fastened  with  pearls  and 
Grenada  silk,  —  all  that  was  for  sale  for  four  hundred 
thousand  francs  at  a  second-hand  shop  in  rue  Neuve 
de  I'Egalit^.  The  rooms  smelt  like  a  cellar;  the 
little  lake  was  a  swamp ;  the  village  a  ruin. 

And  the  famous  palace  of  Versailles,  so  long  the 
symbol  of  power  and  glory,  alas !  how  it  changed ! 
Versailles  without  courtiers  was  like  a  church  with- 


272  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

out  priests,  or  barracks  without  soldiers.  Everything 
began  to  go  to  ruin,  —  the  rooms,  the  marble  statues, 
the  bronze  groups.  A  few  beggars,  former  servants 
of  the  best  of  masters,  pursued  the  visitors  in  hope  of 
alms.  As  Volney  said  in  his  Ruins  :  "  A  busy  orowd 
once  thronged  these  now  deserted  paths ;  within  these 
walls,  where  all  is  silence,  sounded  the  hum  of  work, 
and  sounds  of  joy  and  merrymaking.  A  mysterious 
Providence  administers  incomprehensible  judgment. 
Doubtless  he  afflicts  the  earth  with  a  secret  curse, 
and  in  vengeance  of  races  that  are  passed,  he  has 
smitten  those  of  the  present.  Oh!  who  will  under- 
take to  fathom  the  wonders  of  the  Divine  Being  ?  " 

It  was  a  singular  irony  of  fate  :  in  1797,  the  keeper 
of  a  coffee-house  at  Versailles  rented  the  Little  Tri- 
anon, and  opened  there  a  restaurant  and  public  ball- 
room ;  there  the  crowd  played,  smoked,  and  danced, 
indulging  in  ribald  talk,  and  drinking  more  or  less 
adulterated  wine  in  this  once  most  aristocratic  spot, 
the  former  home  of  every  luxury.  In  1800,  a  branch 
of  the  H6tel  des  Invalides  was  installed  in  the  palace 
of  Versailles.  Two  thousand  veterans  were  estab- 
lished in  the  central  wing  and  in  the  apartments  of 
Louis  XV.  and  Louis  XVI.  Not  even  the  chambers 
of  the  kings  inspired  respect. 

During  the  First  Empire  the  palaces  of  Versailles 
and  those  of  Trianon  had  a  few  hours  of  glory. 
January  3,  1805,  the  town  was  visited  by  Pius  VII., 
who  came  for  the  coronation  of  the  man  who  was 
then  called  a  second  Constantine,  and  he  desired  to 


VERSAILLES  SINCE  178Q.  278 

see  the  palace  of  the  old  monarchy.  He  left  Paris 
ill  a  carriage  drawn  by  eight  horses  and  escorted 
by  men  of  the  Imperial  Guard,  to  make  his  formal 
entrance  into  Versailles.  Amid  the  roar  of  artillery 
and  the  ringing  of  all  the  church  bells,  he  went  first 
to  the  cathedral  and  then  to  the  palace.  After  letting 
more  than  five  hundred  people  kiss  his  ring,  in  the 
grand  apartments  and  the  Gallery  of  the  Mirrors,  he 
went  out  on  the  balcony,  in  the  middle  of  the  gallery, 
looking  out  on  the  park.  An  immense  multitude 
was  on  the  terrace,  impatiently  waiting  for  the  Vicar 
of  Christ  to  appear. 

As  soon  as  the  Holy  Father  came  out  on  the 
balcony,  the  whole  crowd  fell  on  their  knees,  bare- 
headed. And  this  same  people  who,  less  than  ten 
years  before,  was  guillotining  the  priests,  breaking 
the  sacred  vessels,  and  had  installed  a  prostitute  on 
the  high  altar  of  Notre  Dame  of  Paris,  now  knelt  in 
repentance  to  receive  the  blessing  of  this  venerable 
man  who  brought  to  France  the  word  of  peace  and 
the  pardon  of  the  God  of  pity.  With  more  truth 
than  the  Doge  of  Venice,  the  Pope  might  have 
answered  the  question,  what  most  surprised  him  at 
Versailles,  "  It  is  to  see  myself  here."  It  was  a 
happy  moment  for  the  Church,  for  France,  and  for 
Napoleon.  The  Holy  Father,  surprised  and  touched, 
exclaimed  with  deep  emotion,  "Is  this  the  French 
people  who  are  called  so  irreligious  ?  " 

In  1805,  the  Emperor  gave  orders  for  the  restora- 
tion of  the  palaces  of  Versailles  and  Trianon,  which 


274  MAMIE  ANTOINETTE. 

had  reverted  to  the  crown.  February  5,  a  ball  was 
given  in  the  Hercules  drawing-room.  The  haughty 
upstart  moved  as  a  conqueror  in  the  palace  of  kings  ; 
and  in  spite  of  his  wonderful  fortune,  he,  the  son  of 
a  poor  and  obscure  Corsican  gentleman,  must  have 
felt  surprise  at  being  master  of  the  Sun  King's  palace. 
The  conqueror's  court  was  then  most  brilliant,  and 
the  glow  of  victory  lit  up  all  the  residences  of  this 
man  of  destin}^  He  sought  at  the  Grand  Trianon  a 
few  moments'  peace  in  the  mournful  moments  of  his 
varied  career.  This  was  December  16,  1809,  the  day 
when  he  divorced  the  Empress  Josephine,  the  loved 
companion  of  his  happy  days.  He,  man  of  action,  of 
iron,  as  he  was,  this  giant  of  battles,  was  not  so  void 
of  feeling  as  some  have  supposed.  He  suffered  all 
the  sufferings  of  the  woman  he  had  once  loved  so 
dearly;  and,  thinking  in  turn  of  her  and  of  Marie 
Antoinette,  during  the  week  he  spent  at  Trianon 
after  the  divorce,  he  doubtless  said  more  than  once 
that  the  royal  or  imperial  crown  often  turns  into  a 
crown  of  thorns,  in  a  country  torn  and  troubled  like 
ours. 

July  10,  1811,  the  Emperor  came  again  to  Trianon, 
and  this  time  in  company  with  the  Empress  Marie 
Louise.  August  25,  on  her  birthday,  after  a  perform- 
ance in  the  theatre  of  the  Little  Trianon,  the  gardens 
were  illuminated  as  in  the  time  of  Marie  Antoinette. 
The  Emperor  walked  through  them,  hat  in  hand,  with 
the  Empress  on  his  arm,  and  the  whole  court  follow- 
ing them.    He 'went  first  to  the  Temple  of  Love ;  then 


VEUSAILLES  SINCE  1789.  275 

to  the  hamlet,  where  had  been  arranged  a  number  of 
scenes  of  rustic  life,  and  where  a  Flemish  picture 
was  represented  in  action ;  and  finally,  to  the  octagon 
pavilion,  where  musicians  performed  a  cantata.  The 
entertainment  closed  with  a  grand  ball  in  the  gallery 
of  the  Great  Trianon.  In  1813,  the  Emperor  resided 
there  from  the  7th  to  the  22d  of  March  with  the 
Empress  Marie  Louise  and  Queen  Hortense,  and  it 
is  there  that  he  wrote  a  letter  of  advice  and  friendli- 
ness to  Josephine.  It  is  there,  too,  that  he  collected 
a  library  of  more  than  two  thousand  volumes,  con- 
sisting of  the  masterpieces  of  human  intelligence. 
He  remembered  this  library  after  his  second  abdi- 
cation ;  and  he  asked  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  for 
permission  to  carry  these  books  with  him  into  exile, 
hoping  to  get  from  them  some  comfort  for  his  cruel 
griefs.  The  Chamber,  by  a  unanimous  vote,  acceded 
to  the  desire  of  the  man  who,  a  short  time  before, 
had  disposed  of  the  sceptres  and  crowns  of  Europe. 
But  the  wish  of  the  fallen  sovereign  could  not  be 
carried  out :  foreign  troops  had  sacked  and  pillaged 
Napoleon's  library. 

Louis  XVIII.  seldom  visited  Versailles ;  the  palace 
in  which  he  had  dwelt  in  his  youth  was  full  of 
sad  memories.  The  arrangement  of  the  halls  and 
room  had  not  been  changed ;  and  Louis  XVIII.  was 
able  to  distinguish  all  the  rooms  in  the  central  wing 
in  which  he  had  lived  when  Count  of  Provence. 
Charles  X.  also  went  very  seldom  to  Versailles.  In 
1830,    when   he   was    dethroned,   he    stopped    for   a 


276  MARIE  ANTOINETTR 

moment  at  Trianon.  It  was  the  first  station  of  his 
exile. 

Louis  Philippe,  who,  in  spite  of  the  democratic 
origin  of  the  royalty  of  July,  had  aristocratic  tastes, 
and  who  would  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to 
be,  if  the  Revolution  had  permitted,  a  sovereign  like 
Louis  XIV.,  took  much  more  interest  in  Versailles 
than  Louis  XVIII.  or  Charles  X.  He  obtained  from 
the  Chambers  money  enough  for  the  restoration  of 
the  palace,  but  only  on  the  condition  of  establishing 
there  a  historical  museum.  The  Versailles  of  the 
Sun  King  was  put  under  the  protection  of  the  Re- 
public, of  the  Empire,  and  of  the  Monarchy  of  1830. 
That  was  the  only  way  to  avoid  wounding  the  pas- 
sions and  susceptibilities  of  the  time.  The  glories  of 
the  old  regime  were  obliged  to  seek  protection  from 
the  toleration  of  the  new. 

The  creation  of  the  Versailles  Museum  had  been 
decreed  September  1,  1833  ;  it  was  inaugurated  June 
10,  1837.  A  grand  state  dinner,  at  which  Louis 
Philippe  presided,  was  given  in  the  Gallery  of  the 
Mirrors.  At  the  King's  table  were  laid  six  hundred 
plates.  After  the  dinner,  the  royal  family  and  all 
the  guests  went  into  the  theatre ;  this  hall,  which 
had  been  richly  decorated,  was  all  ablaze  with  light. 
Mademoiselle  Mars  and  the  principal  actors  of  the 
Com^die  Frangaise  played  "Le  Misanthrope."  Then 
Duprez,  Levasseur,  and  Mademoiselle  Falcon  sang 
selections  from  the  third  and  fifth  acts  of  "Robert 
le  Diable."      "  The  performance,"   we    read  in   the 


VERSAILLES   SINCE  1789.  277 

Moniteur  of  June  12,  1837,  "terminated  with  an 
interlude  by  M.  Scribe,  intended  to  celebrate  the 
inauguration  of  the  Museum,  and  to  compare  an 
entertainment  given  at  Versailles  by  Louis  XIV. 
with  the  wholly  national  festival  given  this  day  by 
the  King  of  the  French.'  The  company  was  filled 
with  the  liveliest  enthusiasm  at  the  moment  when 
the  art  of  the  decorator  made  the  view  of  the  old 
Versailles  follow  that  of  Versailles  restored  to  its 
former  glory,  and  consecrated  by  Louis  Philippe  to 
the  arts  that  honor  the  country." 

After  the  performance,  the  King  and  the  guests 
went  through  all  the  halls  of  the  palace  and  the  ncAV 
gallery,  the  Gallery  of  the  Battles,  "  where  one  sees 
traced  on  canvas,"  says  the  Moniteur.,  "  all  the  great 
exploits  of  French  valor,  from  the  battle  of  Tolbiac 
to  that  of  Wagram."  This  promenade  with  torches 
was  very  impressive.  Footmen  in  red  livery  went 
before  the  King,  carrying  torches.  Louis  Philippe 
was  very  proud  of  his  triumph. 

October  17,  1837,  in  the  chapel  of  Trianon,  was 
celebrated  the  marriage  of  Princess  Marie  of  Orleans 
—  who  made  the  statue  of  Joan  of  Arc  —  with  Duke 
Alexander  of  Wiirtemberg.  The  Little  Trianon  was 
the  summer  residence  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of 
Orleans. 

Charles  X.,  before  leaving  for  foreign  parts,  rested 
a  moment  at  Trianon,  July  31,  1830.  February  24, 
1848,  another  exile  also  stopped  there :  this  exile  was 
Louis   Philippe.     The  law  of  revenge  was  applied. 


278  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

The  younger  branch  endured  the  same  fate  as  the 
elder  one.  In  our  century  of  revolutions,  are  not 
palaces  like  inns,  in  which  sovereigns,  like  travellers, 
merely  pass  through;  and  cannot  the  exile  of  the 
day  repeat  to  the  exile  of  the  morrow  this  motto  of 
the  cemetery  :  Hodie  miJii^  eras  tibi  ? 

April  22,  1849,  the  heir  of  Napoleon,  who  had  be- 
come the  President  of  the  French  Republic,  held  a 
review  on  the  Place  d'Armes,  and  before  the  statue 
of  Louis  XIY.  he  presented  banners  to  the  battalions 
of  the  National  Guard  of  Seine-et-Oise. 

February  1,  1853,  a  bridegroom  with  a  woman  of 
rare  beauty  by  his  side  entered  the  palace  courtyard 
at  Versailles,  in  a  tilbury  which  he  drove  himself. 
As  soon  as  the  wagon  stopped,  the  Curator  of  the 
Museum  was  summoned  by  the  couple,  who  asked 
him  to  show  them  all  the  portraits  of  Marie  Antoi- 
nette there  were  in  the  palace.  M.  Souli^  hastened 
to  comply  with  their  desire.  Before  him  stood  the 
man  who,  on  the  previous  evening,  had  worn  the  col- 
lar of  the  Legion  of  Honor  which  Napoleon  I.  had 
worn  at  his  coronation,  and  the  very  golden  fleece 
of  the  Emperor  Charles  V. ;  the  woman,  full  of  grace 
and  cTiarm,  in  her  long  dress  of  white  silk,  her  diadem 
and  waistband  of  diamonds,  her  white  veil  adorned 
with  orange-flowers,  had  drawn  from  the  numberless 
crowd  exclamations  of  surprise,  joy,  and  admiration. 
Now,  she  was  in  simple  walking-dress,  without  maid- 
of-honor,  or  escort  of  any  kind.  But  in  her  mind,  in 
her  eyes,  still  lingered  that  vision  of  the  previous  even- 


VERSAILLES   SINCE  1789.  279 

ing, — the  Elysde,  the  Tuileries,  the  Place  du  Louvre, 
the  rue  de  Rivoli,  the  quays,  all  decorated  with  poles, 
pennants,  awnings,  and  inscriptions ;  the  women  wav- 
ing their  handkerchiefs  and  throwing  bouquets ;  the 
soldiers  and  the  National  Guard  saluting ;  the  dash- 
ing regiment  of  the  Guards ;  the  light  cavalry  in  their 
golden  cuirasses  ;.  the  deputations  of  workingmen, 
with  their  banners  in  front;  the  old  soldiers  of  the 
First  Empire,  the  veterans  of  Austerlitz,  Jena,  and 
Wagram ;  the  young  girls  in  white  ;  then  the  towers 
of  Notre  Dame  upholding  four  eagles  and  two  huge 
tricolored  flags ;  the  entrance  of  this  old  cathedral, 
with  its  tapestries  representing  equestrian  statues  of 
Charlemagne  and  Napoleon,  and,  beneath  the  vaulted 
roof  of  the  church,  the  banners  of  the  eighty-six  de- 
partments of  France;  the  fifteen  thousand  candles 
lighting  the  nave ;  the  high  altar,  resplendent  with 
lights  and  flowers.  All  this  the  Empress  still  had  in 
her  eyes,  and  in  her  ears  still  resounded  the  cannon 
of  the  Invalides,  the  roll  of  the  drums,  the  sound  of 
trumpets  and  church  bells,  the  enthusiastic  applause 
of  the  people,  the  songs  of  the  Church,  the  majestic 
roar  of  the  organ.  She  still  breathed  the  heavy 
perfume  of  the  incense ;  she  heard  the  echo  of  the 
litanies,  and  of  the  hosannas,  and  yet  she  was  sad. 
In  spite  of  this  apotheosis,  the  glory  of  which  still 
dazzled  her,  at  this  moment  when  she  thought  her- 
self the  dupe  of  a  dream,  her  mind  was  anxious  and 
troubled ;  her  soul  was  filled,  not  with  pride,  but  with 
melancholy. 


280  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

Doubtless,  too,  she  remembered  that  another  wo- 
man, another  sovereign,  had,  too,  been  exalted,  flat- 
tered, half  deified ;  and  as  she  thought  of  that  woman, 
she  recalled  no  longer  the  triumphal  march  of  the 
previous  evening,  but  those  three  stopping-places  of 
the  other,  —  the  Temple,  the  Conciergerie,  the  Place 
Louis  XV.  The  Emperor  seemed  full  of  confidence 
in  the  future :  never  had  his  faith  in  his  star  seemed 
firmer ;  it  manifested  itself  in  every  sentence,  in 
every  word  of  the  speech  he  uttered  before  the  great 
bodies  of  the  State,  in  the  Tuileries,  January  23, 
1853,  announcing  that  great  bit  of  news,  his  marriage. 
He  then  said :  "  I  have  preferred  a  woman  whom  I 
love  and  whom  I  respect,  to  any  unknown  woman, 
alliance  with  whom  would  have  brought  advantages 
mingled  with  sacrifices.  Without  expressing  con- 
tempt for  any  one,  I  follow  my  inclinations,  but  after 
consulting  my  reason  and  my  convictions.  By  plac- 
ing independence,  the  qualities  of  the  heart,  and  fam- 
ily happiness  above  dynastic  prejudices  and  ambitious 
calculations,  I  shall  not  be  less  strong,  since  I  shall 
enjo}^  more  freedom."  He  had  also  said:  "The  exam- 
ples of  the  past  have  left  behind  them  in  the  popular 
mind  a  host  of  superstitious  beliefs.  It  has  not  for- 
gotten that  for  sixty  years  no  foreign  princess  has 
ascended  the  steps  of  the  throne  without  seeing  her 
family  scattered  and  proscribed  by  war  and  revo- 
lution." 

War  and  revolution !  The  Emperor  was  then  very 
sure  that  he  and  his  wife  would  never  be  their  vie- 


VERSAILLES  SINCE  1789.  281 

tims.  The  evening  before,  just  when  she  was  finish- 
ing her  dressing  at  the  Elys^e,  before  going  to  the 
Tuileries  and  to  Notre  Dame,  the  Empress  had  put 
about  her  neck  a  magnificent  necklace  of  pearls. 
Then  an  old  Spanish  servant  who  was  there  could 
not  keep  from  crying  out :  "  Oh,  Madame  !  I  beg  of 
you,  don't  pi.t  on  that  necklace;  I  am  afraid  of  it. 
You  know  what  they  say  at  home  :  '  The  more  pearls 
you  wear  on  your  wedding-day,  the  more  tears  you 
will  shed  the  rest  of  your  life  ! '  "  Nevertheless,  the 
Empress  kept  on  the  necklace  ;  but  the  servant's 
words  had  struck  her.  She  heard  their  distant  echo 
like  the  sound  of  an  alarm-bell,  and,  thinking  of  the 
tears  shed  by  Marie  Antoinette,  she  said  to  herself 
that  possibly  her  eyes,  too,  would  be  swollen  and 
scalded  with  tears.  She  gazed  for  a  long  time,  with 
curiosity  mingled  with  respect  and  emotion,  at  the 
five  portraits  of  the  martyred  Queen,  two  of  which 
were  painted  by  the  Swedish  artist,  Roslin,  and  three 
by  Madame  Vig^e-Lebrun.  One  of  these  portraits 
hangs  in  the  Queen's  chamber,  just  where  her  alcove 
was,  to  the  left,  above  the  little  door  through  which 
she  fled  from  the  assassins  in  the  morning  of  October 
6,  1789. 

Another  canvas,  painted  by  the  same  artist,  which 
hangs  in  the  story  above,  represents  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, in  1787,  surrounded  by  her  children,  the  first 
Dauphin ;  the  Duke  of  Normandy,  the  future  Louis 
XVII.;  Madame  Royale,  the  future  orphan  of  the 
Temple.     The  Empress  stood   long  in  silent  revery 


282  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

before  this  pathetic  picture,  so  crowded  with  presenti- 
ments. 

Very  near  that  is  another,  before  which  the  Em- 
peror doubtless  did  not  stop ;  but  it  contains  a  still 
gloomier  omen.  It  represents  King  Jerome,  seated 
by  the  side  of  his  wife,  the  Princess  Catherine  of 
Wiirtemberg.  The  King  and  Queen  of  Westphalia 
are  on  the  terrace  of  a  castle  which  overlooks  a  beau- 
tiful park,  and  one  sees  in  the  distance  a  cascade  like 
that  of  Saint  Cloud.  This  castle  Napoleon  III.  was 
one  day  to  inhabit.  It  is  his  future  prison,  —  Wil- 
helmshohe  !  How  fortunate  it  is  for  us  all,  sovereigns 
or  citizens,  that  we  do  not  know  beforehand  the  fate 
that  awaits  us ! 

But  the  day  of  sorrow  and  mourning  was  still  dis- 
tant. The  Empire  which  was  doomed  to  such  a  ter- 
rible end  had  still  many  years  of  strength  and  glory 
before  it. 

August  21,  1855,  Versailles  was  in  festal  array. 
At  the  entrance  of  the  Avenue  Saint  Cloud  stood  a 
triumphal  arch  decorated  with  the  united  flags  of 
France  and  England.  On  the  pediment  were  in- 
scribed, towards  the  Avenue  of  Picardy,  the  names 
Victoria  and  Prince  Albert;  towards  the  city  the 
names  Napoleon  and  Eugenie.  The  Emperor  and 
the  Empress  went  to  do  the  honors  of  the  palace  of 
Louis  XIV.  to  the  Queen  of  England  and  the  Prince 
Consort. 

Towards  eleven  in  the  morning,  the  imperial  and 
royal  procession,  consisting  of  a  number  of  carriages 


VERSAILLES   SINCE  1789.  283 

drawn  by  six  horses,  preceded  and  followed  by  an 
escort  of  light  cavalry,  entered  the  city,  stopped  for 
a  few  moments  beneath  the  triumphal  arch  to  hear 
the  address  of  welcome  of  the  mayor  of  Versailles, 
and  then  continued  its  march  to  the  palace,  amid  the 
cheers  of  an  enthusiastic  crowd. 

Four  days  later,  August  25,  the  Emperor  gave  a 
ball  in  the  palace  to  Queen  Victoria.  The  court- 
yards and  the  park  were  illuminated.  Never  had  the 
residence  of  the  Sun  King  been  more  brilliant.  Its 
majestic  architecture  shone  forth  in  lines  of  fire. 
The  sovereigns  entered  by  the  marble  staircase ;  the 
guests,  by  the  princes'  stairway.  Waiting  and  rest- 
ing rooms,  boudoirs  lined  with  blue  damask  and  filled 
with  baskets  of  flowers,  had  been  arranged  for  the 
Queen  in  the  apartments  of  Marie  Antoinette.  The 
Gallery  of  Mirrors  was  most  radiant. 

Thousands  of  lamps  and  chandeliers  cast  their 
light  on  the  jewels  and  rich  dresses.  Every  window 
showed  a  fairy-like  sight,  the  park'  being  no  less  bril- 
liant than  the  palace ;  the  great  sheet  of  water, 
surrounded  on  all  sides  by  a  series  of  Renaissance 
porticos,  was  lit  by  many-colored  lanterns,  fastened 
on  trellis  work  as  green  as  an  emerald,  and  the  whole 
stood  out  vividly  against  the  trees  of  the  background. 
In  the  middle  rose  a  triumphal  arch  on  the  top  of 
which  appeared  the  arms  of  France  and  of  England. 
On  the  porticos  to  the  right  and  the  left  glittered  the 
initials  of  the  sovereigns ;  the  water  arose  in  slender 
jets  to  fall  down  the  cascades  beneath  bright  arches ; 


284  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

the  two  basins  formed  a  glowing  sheet,  on  which 
swam  golden  dolphins,  carrying  cupids  that  bore 
Venetian  garlands.  At  ten  o'clock  the  doors  of  the 
grand  apartments  opened,  and  Their  Majesties  entered 
the  Gallery  of  Mirrors  —  Queen  Victoria  on  the  Em- 
peror's arm ;  the  Empress  on  that  of  Prince  Albert. 

A  few  moments  after  began  the  fireworks,  which 
were  set  off  at  the  end  of  the  Swiss  basin :  the  princi- 
pal piece  represented  Windsor  Castle.  Then  Napo- 
leon III.  opened  the  ball  with  the  Queen.  At  eleven 
the  sovereigns  made  their  way  through  the  grand 
apartments  of  Louis  XIV.  to  the  theatre,  where  sup- 
per was  served.  The  table  of  Their  Majesties  had 
been  placed  in  one  of  the  principal  boxes  overlook- 
ing the  orchestra  and  the  pit,  which  had  been  trans- 
formed into  a  banquet  hall.  Never  was  there  a  more 
sumptuous  festival.  The  Emperor  was  then  young, 
triumphant,  and  full  of  confidence  in  himself  and  his 
destiny,  had  no  suspicion  of  the  catastrophes  hid  in 
the  gloomy  future,  or  of  the  very  different  festival 
which  waa  to  be  celebrated  fifteen  years  later  in  this 
same  Gallery  of  the  Mirrors,  when,  at  the  end  of  the 
Crimean  War,  Imperial  France  rivalled  in  splendor 
the  France  of  the  Great  King. 

January  8,  1871,  an  altar  covered  with  a  red  cloth 
was  raised  in  this  gallery,  opposite  the  windows  look- 
ing out  upon  the  park.  On  this  red  cloth  was  the 
figure  of  the  Iron  Cross  of  Prussia.  Around  the 
altar  stood  officers  holding  flags.  At  one  in  the 
afternoon.  King  William,  surrounded  by  representa- 


VERSAILLES  SINCE  1789.  285 

lives  of  all  the  reigning  families  of  Germany,  by  the 
members  of  his  family,  his  generals,  and  his  minis- 
ters, entered  and  took  his  place  before  the  altar.  On 
his  left  was  noticed  Bismarck,  who  had  just  been 
appointed  division-commander.  A  choir  of  soldiers 
sang  a  psalm.  The  njw  German  Empire  was  about  to 
be  established.  After  the  psalm,  the  King  placed  upon 
the  flag  the  charter  of  the  Empire  and  bade  the  Chan- 
cellor to  read  the  proclamation  to  the  German  peo- 
ple. The  new  Csesar  announced  that,  in  accordance 
with  the  demand  of  the  Princes  and  the  Free  Cities, 
he  felt  it  his  duty  to  restore  the  Imperial  crown  and 
to  assume  it  himself.  As  soon  as  the  reading  of  the 
proclamation  was  over,  the  Grand  Duke  of  Baden 
shouted,  "  Long  live  the  Emperor  of  Germany ! " 
The  whole  assembled  company  repeated  this  cry 
three  times ;  then  the  bands  played  the  Prussian 
national  hymn.  The  gray  light  of  a  winter  day  lit 
up  this  military  and  feudal  ceremony  which  brought 
back  memories  of  the  old  knights  in  armor. 

Thus,  by  one  of  the  contrasts  with  which  history 
is  filled,  —  for  history  is  richer  in  surprises  than  any 
play,  —  it  is  here,  in  this  famous  Gallery  of  the 
Mirrors,  still  full  of  the  pomp  and  splendor  of  Louis 
XIV.,  whose  armies  had  so  proudly  crossed  the 
Rhine ;  here,  in  this  imposing  hall,  where  Lebrun's 
frescoes  represent  so  many  scenes  of  triumph,  that 
it  was  given  to  the  Germans  to  restore  the  Empire 
which  the  French  had  taken  so  many  ages  to  over- 
throw.    If  the  dead  retain   any  interest  in  human 


286  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

affairs,  what  must  the  Great  King  have  thought  of 
the  rites  just  celebrated  in  his  palace  ? 

And  the  victor  himself,  what  must  have  been  his 
reflections  on  the  vicissitudes  of  fate?  Even  amid 
all  their  glory  and  the  intoxication  of  success,  the 
haughtiest  conquerors  cannot  escape  serious  thoughts : 
a  secret  voice,  like  that  of  the  slave  who  kept  close 
to  the  triumphal  chariot  in  antiquity,  whispers  into 
their  ears  that  earthly  joys  are  brief,  that  the  future 
is  uncertain. 

Who  knows?  Despite  his  prodigious  triumphs, 
the  conqueror  of  Sedan,  the  all-powerful  Emperor 
William  himself  had,  possibly,  his  moments  of  sad- 
ness. Possibly  he  thought  more  than  once,  amid  all 
the  applause  and  the  blare  of  trumpets,  of  that  army 
of  which  the  Abbd  Perreyve  has  spoken,  "  that  army 
unseen  by  the  corporal  eyes,  but  too  clearly  visible 
to  the  mind's  eye,  which  begins  its  bloody  march 
.  .  .  the  great  army  of  the  dead,  the  army  of  the 
slain,  the  abandoned,  the  forgotten,  the  army  of  cruel 
tortures  and  prolonged  infirmities,  which  pursues  its 
fatal  march  behind  what  we  call  glory !  "  Yes,  pos- 
sibly the  conqueror  recalled,  not  Avithout  a  pang,  the 
time  when  Germany  and  France,  like  two  allies,  like 
two  friends,  took  part  together  in  the  festivals  of 
peace,  in  the  great  ceremonies  of  modern  civilization. 
Possibly  he  remembered  the  time  of  the  Universal 
Exhibition,  when  he  offered  rich  bouquets  to  the 
Empress  Eugenie,  when  the  hospitality  of  the  Tui- 
leries  was  sumptuous  and  cordial,  when  the  peoples 


VERSAILLES   SINCE  1789.  287 

fraternized  like  their  sovereigns,  and  Germans  and 
French,  gathered  about  the  same  tables,  drank  Bava- 
rian beer  together  in  the  galleries  of  the  joyous 
palace  of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  while  the  magic  bow  of 
Strauss  of  Vienna  directed  the  fascinating  waltzes,  — 
"The  Blue  Danube,"  "Morning  Flowers."  How 
many  fine  and  fearless  young  men,  then  in  the  flower 
and  force  of  their  youth,  were  now  sleeping  beneath 
the  sods  of  the  battle-field !  And  how  many  were 
wounded  and  maimed !  How  many  families  in 
mourning,  how  many  mothers  in  tears  !  What  a  sad 
conflict  was  this  terrible  war  between  two  great 
nations  that  stood  at  the  head  of  contemporary  civil- 
ization, between  two  intelligent  and  brave  peoples, 
who  were  born  to  understand  and  to  respect  one 
another  I  And  what  a  price  did  the  unhappy  coun- 
tries, which  would  have  been  so  prosperous  in  peace 
and  friendly  rivalry,  pay  for  the  wars  of  their  em- 
perors and  kings ! 

The  day  after  the  proclamation  of  the  Empire 
of  Germany  at  Versailles,  the  cannon  of  Buzenval 
announced  the  death  agony  of  Paris.  The  bom- 
bardment of  the  great  capital  went  on  without  in- 
terruption, and  the  palace  of  Saint  Cloud  began  to 
burn,  like  a  sacrificial  pile.  The  applause  which  had 
greeted  the  new-made  Emperor  in  the  Gallery  of  the 
Mirrors  still  continued,  when  its  aspect  had  swiftly 
changed.  The  hall  of  Triumph  became  a  hospital; 
thither  were  taken  the  Germans  wounded  at  Buzenval. 
The  apartments   of  the   Dauphin,  of  the  Queen,  the 


288  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

grand  apartments  of  Louis  XIV.,  were  also  filled  with 
dying  men.  The  attendants  slept  in  the  hall  of  the 
Queen's  Guards. 

The  hall  of  the  Grand  Convert  —  the  hall  where, 
in  the  time  of  the  old  monarchy,  were  given  the  most 
magnificent  royal  banquets,  was  turned  into  an  apoth- 
ecary's shop.  Cries  of  pain,  long  sighs,  the  death 
rattle  of  the  mortally  hurt,  were  heard  in  this  splen- 
did gallery,  which  had  so  often  echoed,  in  a  blaze  of 
lights  and  flowers,  to  the  joyous  music  of  the  ball- 
room. The  wounded,  as  they  lay  on  their  beds  of 
pain,  could  see  above  their  heads  Lebrun's  heroic 
paintings,  and  possibly  to  some  of  them  there  oc- 
curred bitter  thoughts  about  glory;  for  glory  has 
but  a  pallid  glow  to  dying  men. 

Yet  the  German  wounded  could  at  least  say  that 
elsewhere,  at  that  moment,  there  were  other  wounded 
and  dying  men,  who  were  much  more  deserving  of 
pity.  They  had  the  consolation  of  victory ;  but  the 
beaten  who  were  wounded,  whose  pains  and  sacrifices 
had  been  unavailing,  who  asked,  "  To  what  good 
these  heaped-up  ruins,  these  burned  huts,  so  much 
bloodshed,  such  devotion,  courage,  suffering,  so  many 
heroic  deaths  ?  *'  Those  who  died  for  a  country  humili- 
ated, defeated,  despoiled ;  those  who  had  lost  the  flags 
which  might  have  served  for  shrouds,  what  anguish 
wrung  their  souls,  tortured  like  their  bodies !  Alas  ! 
how  much  they  needed  to  press  the  crucifix  to  their 
lips  in  order  not  to  die  in  despair. 

March  11, 1871,  the  Germans  evacuated  Versailles ; 


VEBSAILLES   SINCE  1789.  289 

they  had  entered  it  six  months  before,  September 
19,  1870,  with  drums  beating  and  banners  waving. 
No  one  would  guess  what  it  was  that  their  bands 
played  as  they  entered  the  town  of  Louis  XIV.  It 
was  the  hymn  of  the  Revolution,  the  "  Marseillaise." 
Yes,  by  a  curious  turn  of  fate,  and  by  a  sort  of  irony, 
the  ''  Marseillaise,"  which  the  French,  in  the  deceptive 
ardor  of  their  w\arlike  hopes,  expected  to  carry  to  the 
other  side  of  the  Rhine,  was  played,  not  in  Germany, 
but  at  Versailles,  by  the  bands  of  King  William. 

The  National  Assembly,  which  had  suspended  its 
sittings  at  Bordeaux,  March  11,  1871,  had  decided  to 
resume  them  at  Versailles  on  the  20th  of  the  same 
month.  They  expected  a  period  of  peace.  It  was 
fair  to  hope  that  after  so  many  sorrows  and  humilia- 
tions, France,  mutilated  and  sorely  stricken,  would 
at  last  enjoy  some  rest,  that  its  power  of  suffering 
was  exhausted,  that  the  Niobe  of  nations  was  to 
recover  its  strength  in  sadness.  But  alas !  at  the 
very  moment  when  it  imagined  that  it  had  drunk 
the  cup  of  bitterness  to  the  dregs,  and  that  it  had 
but  to  set  it  down,  it  was  filled  anew  to  the  brim, 
and  had  to  be  emptied  again. 

After  the  period  of  fire  and  blood  began  the  orgy 
of  brandy  and  petroleum;  after  the  Invasion,  the 
Commune.  Mount  Valerien  continued  to  thunder; 
but  it  was  no  longer  war  with  the  foreigner,  but  one 
more  terrible  and  mournful,  —  civil  war.  The  chil- 
dren of  one  country  plunged  into  unholy  combat ;  and 
from  the  hills  which  engirdle  the  capital  of  capitals, 


290  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

the  Germans  looked  down  upon  the  French  murder- 
ing one  another,  like  gladiators  in  a  huge  amphi- 
theatre. 

During  the  Commune,  Versailles  presented  the 
strangest  appearance.  Sometimes  the  Deputies  who 
could  find  no  quarters  used  to  sleep  in  the  Gallery 
of  the  Mirrors,  which  was  transformed  by  turns  into 
a  hospital  ward  and  a  dormitory.  Stains  of  blood 
may  still  be  seen  on  the  floor  of  this  gallery.  M. 
Thiers  had  installed  himself  in  the  house  of  the 
Prefect,  which  had  been  occupied  a  few  days  before 
by  the  Emperor  William. 

From  time  to  time,  he  would  descend  the  steps  to 
receive  the  red  flags,  melancholy  trophies  of  the 
civil  war,  which  were  brought  back  by  the  victori- 
ous army.  By  his  side  was  Marshal  MacMahon  in 
full  uniform.  The  sound  of  the  trumpet  and  the 
roll  of  the  drums  was  continually  heard.  At  certain 
points,  the  town  looked  like  a  seat  of  war ;  at  others, 
like  a  watering-place.  The  Place  d'Armes  was  cov- 
ered with  cannon ;  and  the  crowd,  when  it  saw  pris- 
oners arrive,  did  not  always  display  the  compassion 
due  to  men  beaten  and  disarmed.  A  little  further, 
and  an  elegant  throng  filled  the  rue  des  Reservoirs. 
These  fugitives,  surprised  at  meeting  one  another, 
used  to  walk  up  and  down,  recounting  their  experi- 
ences, or  they  would  sit  at  hotel  tables,  which  re- 
minded one  of  the  Conversation  Hall  at  Baden  Baden. 
The  spring  weather,  the  lovely  evenings,  the  starlit 
nights,  presented  a  strange  contrast  to  the  savage 


VERSAILLES   SINCE  1789.  291 

passions  raging  in  Paris.  Nature,  which  is  better 
than  man,  seemed  to  be  making  a  protest  by  its  calm 
and  its  unalterable  serenity;  and  the  roar  of  tlie 
cannon  continually  firing  was  like  peals  of  thunder, 
startling  every  one  by  suddenly  breaking  forth  under 
a  clear  sky. 

Everybody  wondered  what  would  become  of  the 
hostages ;  what  would  be  the  end  of  this  lamentable 
tragedy ;  what  would  become  of  the  burning  city ; 
would  it  not  be  consumed  to  the  last  house  ?  Cruel 
uncertainty  !  Horrible  forebodings  !  Was  it  conceiv- 
able that  such  awful  things  should  be  going  on  close 
to  Versailles?  As  the  Journal  Officiel  said,  in  its 
number  of  May  25,  "  For  centuries  history  has  not 
known  such  disasters  or  such  crimes."  The  ancient 
notion  of  the  power  of  Fate  was  exceeded.  And  yet 
at  Versailles,  beside  the  faces  full  of  alarm,  there 
were  faces  almost  indifferent.  I  have  seen  women 
riding  under  the  trees,  and  worthy  citizens  in  the 
park  smelling  the  early  perfumes  of  the  flowering 
lilacs.  Tragic  incidents  make  less  impression  at  the 
moment  of  their  happening  than  they  do  when  they 
come  back  as  memories  in  the  imposing  remoteness 
of  history. 

At  the  present  time,^  the  town  of  Louis  XIV.,  who 
held  everything  that  had  to  do  with  a  parliament  in 
the  greatest  horror,  has  become  the  very  heart  of  par- 


^  Written,  the  reader  is  reminded,  before  the  return  of  the  French 
Chambers  to  Paris.  —  Tr. 


292  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

liamentary  France  \  and  by  another  singularity  of  our 
time,  so  fertile  in  surprises  and  contrasts,  it  is  the 
Republic  which  has  chosen  this  royal  town  for  its 
capital.  In  a  town  which  a  few  years  ago  was  com- 
pared to  a  city  of  the  dead,  prevail  the  warmest  dis- 
cussions, the  most  tumultuous  passions.  Thence  are 
sent  telegrams  all  over  the  world,  announcing  the 
agitations  of  meetings  which  arouse  universal  atten- 
tion. 

One  moment  the  Legitimists  hoped  that  in  the  very 
theatre  where  took  place  the  famous  banquet  of  the 
body-guards,  October  1,  1789,  —  that  festival  of  devo- 
tion and  loyalty,  —  they  would  proclaim  the  re-estab- 
lishment of  the  old  monarchy.  Providence  decided 
otherwise ;  and  now,  in  this  hall  where  a  Republic 
was  voted  by  more  than  one  monarchist,  there  sits  a 
Republican  senate.  In  the  other  side  of  the  castle, 
in  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  south  wing,  the  Chamber 
of  Deputies  holds  its  meetings.  Above  the  Presi- 
dent's chair  hangs  a  picture  representing  the  opening 
of  the  States-General  of  1789,  by  Conder.  Another 
odd  thing  in  a  Republican  chamber  is  to  be  seen,  —  the 
image  of  a  monarch,  and  this  monarch  is  Louis  XVI. 

Sometimes  persons  who  have  come  to  watch  the 
meetings  of  the  Chamber  from  the  galleries,  leave 
the  hall  and  go  to  meditate  in  other  parts  of  the 
palace,  in  the  apartments  full  of  memories  of  the 
old  monarchy.  Nothing  so  allays  the  passions  of 
the  present  as  a  glance  at  the  past.  History  is  not 
merely  didactic ;  it  is  a  source  of  tranquillization. 


VERSAILLES  SINCE  1789.  293 

I  never  get  tired  of  strolling  through  the  royal 
apartments,  which,  strangely  enough,  were  trans- 
formed, in  1871,  into  ministerial  offices.  For  a  year, 
my  work-table  was  placed  near  Marie  Antoinette's 
drawing-room,  in  what  was  called  the  hall  of  the 
Grand  Convert,  opposite  the  picture  representing  the 
Doge  Imperiali  apologizing  to  Louis  XIV.  It  is 
there  that  I  conceived  for  the  palace  of  Versailles  a 
real  passion.  Having  ceased  to  regard  the  place  as  a 
mere  curiosity,  I  have  become  deeply  attached  to  it 
as  a  shrine  where  religion  and  history  speak  in  uni- 
son, and  where  events  call  forth  funeral  orations 
which  need  no  Massillon  or  Bossuet  for  their  utter- 
ance. I  have  often  returned  to  this  historical  palace, 
where  the  dead  have  voice  and  the  stones  a  language 
to  express  the  hollowness  of  greatness,  the  disappoint- 
ments of  vanity,  the  torments  of  ambition,  the  bitter- 
ness and  emptiness  of  glory.  Seen  in  its  true  light, 
that  is  to  say,  in  the  light  of  the  Gospel,  this  palace, 
with  its  abundant  lessons,  seems  as  impressive  as  a 
church,  and  I  never  enter  its  gates  without  a  feeling 
of  reverence ! 

I  shall  never  forget  the  impression  I  received  one 
of  the  last  times  I  visited  it.  I  had  just  lost  a  sister 
who  had  been  the  gentle  companion  of  my  childhood, 
the  friend  of  my  youth,  and  I  had  loved  her  with  all 
my  heart.  She  died  when  of  the  same  age  as  Marie 
Antoinette,  after  enduring  long  sufferings  with  won- 
derful resignation.  She  died  like  a  saint,  as  an  angel 
might  die   if   angels    were    mortal.     In   my   grief  I 


294  MABIE  ANTOINETTE. 

wanted  to  wander  through  this  melancholy  palace, 
whence  a  plaintive  hymn  seemed  to  issue,  to  remind 
me,  by  comparing  my  homely  sorrow  with  more 
famous  afflictions,  that  rich  or  poor,  sovereigns  or 
subjects,  we  are  alike  condemned  to  bear  the  same 
burden,  to  empty  the  same  cup  of  bitterness.  On 
entering  the  palace  courtyard,  I  saw  a  multitude  near 
the  statue  of  Louis  XIV.,  on  their  knees.  Priests, 
sisters  of  Saint  Vincent  de  Paul,  children,  were 
praying  and  singing.  It  was  the  procession  which 
marched,  its  banner  in  front,  to  the  three  stations  of  the 
jubilee,  —  the  Church  of  Saint  Louis,  the  chapel  of  the 
palace,  Notre  Dame.  Then  I  thought,  "  How  petty 
are  the  kings  of  earth,  how  great  the  King  of  Heaven ! 
Where  are  the  thrones,  the  crowns,  the  ashes  of  the 
sovereigns  who  have  reigned  in  this  palace  ?  Every- 
thing is  destroyed,  but  the  cross  remains."  The 
singing  continued ;  never  did  religious  music  sound 
to  me  more  holy. 

It  was  as  if  a  mourning  country  was  invoking 
Divine  clemency.  It  seemed  to  me  that  a  super- 
natural band  was  uniting  the  quick  and  the  dead, 
that  near  these  sisters  of  charity  there  floated  the 
shades  of  the  heroines  of  Versailles,  of  those  women 
who  appeased  the  Divine  wrath  by  innocence  or 
repentance.  Yes,  I  called  up  all,  —  the  pious  Queen, 
Maria  Theresa ;  and  her  who  exchanged  the  proud 
name  of  Duchess  of  La  Valliere  for  the  pathetic 
and  gentle  name  of  Sister  Louise  of  Mercy ;  and 
the  haughty  Montespan,  who  was  made  humble  by 


VERSAILLES   SINCE  1789.  295 

repentance  ;  the  kind  Marie  Leczinska ;  and  Madame 
Louise  of  France,  the  austere  Carmelite ;  and  the  two 
martyrs,  Marie  Antoinette  and  Madame  Elisabeth. 
I  seemed  to  hear  voices  from  beyond  the  grave  join- 
ing in  the  litanies. 

The  procession  made  its  way  into  the  royal  chapel, 
the  dome  of  which,  at  the  side  of  the  palace,  is  like  a 
catafalque,  and  where  there  still  lingered  the  echoes 
of  a  sublime  voice,  the  voice  of  Massillon.  Then  the 
faithful  entoned  the  Miserere.,  a  song  as  deep  as  the 
ocean,  as  great  as  grief ;  the  song  of  lamentation,  of 
humility  to  God.  I  said  to  myself :  "  This  hymn  of 
penitence  must  rise  to  Heaven !  Have  mercy  upon 
me,  O  God !  according  to  thy  loving  kindness.  Mis- 
erere mei.,  Deus^  secundum  magnam  misericordiam 
tuam.  .  .  .  Make  me  to  hear  joy  and  gladness, 
that  the  bones  which  thou  hast  broken  may  rejoice : 
Auditui  meo  dahis  gaudium  et  Icetitiam^  et  exultahunt 
ossa  Jiumiliata.  .  .  ."  And  I  raised  my  heart  towards 
Him  of  whom  Bossuet  says,  "  To  Him  alone  belong 
glory,  majesty,  and  freedom ;  the  only  one  who  glories 
in  making  laws  for  kings,  and  in  giving  them  when 
he  pleases  great  and  terrible  lessons."  Ah !  I  said 
to  myself,  the  true  end  of  a  study  on  Versailles  is 
this  religious  ceremony  in  the  chapel  where  kings 
used  to  kneel.  After  the  crime,  reparation;  after 
the  pomp  of  pride,  humble  repentance ;  after  the 
wanton  favorites,  the  modest  daughter  of  Saint  Vin- 
cent de  Paul.  All  France  appeared  to  me  like  a  pen- 
itent.    No !  all  these  trials   and  sacrifices  were    not^ 


296  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

ill  vain !  The  tears  and  blood  were  not  shed  to  no 
purpose !  No ;  a  people  which  has  maintained  its 
faith  under  adversity  is  not  condemned  to  hopeless 
decay !  Material  ruin,  and  that  more  terrible  thing 
yet,  moral  ruin,  may  be  finally  repaired.  Like  Laz- 
arus, France  will  rise  from  her  tomb ;  she  accepts  the 
lessons  of  the  past,  to  prepare  for  the  future,  and 
though  He  has  punished  her,  the  God  of  mercy  does 
not  cease  to  protect  her. 


INDEX. 


Abbaye,  the  prison  of,  broken  open, 
207. 

Angouleme,  Duchess  of,  see  Mad- 
ame Royale,  156. 

Aubertin,  Charles,  quoted,  202. 

Balls,  the  last  court,  at  Versailles, 
2. 

Banquet  of  October  1  at  Versailles, 
241. 

"  Barber  of  Seville,"  played  at  the 
Little  Trianon,  55  et  seq. 

Bastille,  capture  of,  211. 

Beaumarchais,  his  elforts  to  have 
the  "  Marriage  of  Figaro  "  played, 
31;  a  forerunner  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, 33;  his  letter  to  the  Abbe 
de  Calonne,  36 ;  performance  of 
his  "Barber  of  Seville"  in  the 
theatre  of  the  Little  Trianon, 
56. 

Besenval,  Baron,  quoted,  172,  174. 

Beugnot,  Count,  describes  Caglios- 
tro's  sorceries,  74. 

Boehmer,  the  jeweller  from  whom 
the  diamond  necklace  was  pur- 
chased, 88. 

Bombelles,  Marchioness  of,  the 
friend  of  Madame  Elisabeth,  142. 

Bosson,  Jacques,  Madame  Elisa- 
beth's dairyman,  147. 

Breteuil,  Baron  de,  orders  the  ar- 
rest of  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan, 
100. 

Brienne,  his  incapacity,  173;  his 
greed,  176;  leaves  the  ministry, 
177. 

Broglie,  Marshal  of,  put  in  com- 
mand of  the  troops,  207. 


Cagliostro,  his  appearance  in 
France,  60;  attaches  himself  to 
Cardinal  de  Rohan,  70 ;  his  char- 
latanries, 72;  banished,  122;  his 
end,  123. 

Calonne,  his  paper  proposing  to 
convoke  the  Notables,  168;  his 
sijeech  in  the  Assembly,  170. 

Campan,  Madame,  quoted,  24;  her 
interview  with  Boehmer,  iK),  171. 

Cazotte,  M.,  prophecies  of,  loO  et 
seq. 

Chantilly,  reception  to  the  Grand 
Duke  Paul  at,  27 ;  festivities  at, 
29. 

Chateaubriand  describes  the  pomp 
of  Versailles,  3. 

Compardon,  M.,  his  book  on  the 
diamond  necklace,  86, 

Conde,  Prince  of,  his  courtesy,  28. 

Conde,  Mademoiselle  de,  29. 

Court,  the  French,  before  the  Revo- 
lution, 21. 

Darboy,  Archbishop,  his  preface  to 
Madame  Elisabeth's  letters,  157. 

Dauphin,  the, "  asks  leave  to  enter," 
14 ;  baptism  of,  12 ;  enthusiasm  of 
all  classes  over,  15  et  seq. ;  illness 
of,  197 ;  his  death,  199. 

Diamond  necklace,  the  affair  of, 
86  et  seq. 

Elisabeth,  Madame,  her  devotion  to 
Marie  Antoinette,  135 ;  her  char- 
acter and  life,  136  et  seq. ;  letters 
of,  142;  her  religious  reflections, 
143 ;  her  dairy,  147 ;  her  impris- 
onment and  execution,  152  et  seq. 

297 


298 


INDEX. 


Elliott,  Madame,  her  account  of 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  233,  237; 
tries  to  induce  him  to  join  him- 
self to  the  King,  238. 

Enghien,  Duke  of,  29. 

*'  Figaro,  the  Marriage  of,"  its  per- 
formance prevented,  31 ;  played 
at  Gennevilliers,  35 ;  and  at  the 
Comedie  Fran9aise,  35. 

Georgel,  Abbe,  his  zeal  in  the  de- 
fence of  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan, 
110,  120. 

Goethe,  foresees  the  Revolution, 
125. 

Grimm,  Baron,  quoted,  30,  36. 

La  Fayette,  Marquis  of,  birth  and 
fortunes,  222  et  seq.;  serves  in 
America,  224 ;  his  love  of  fame, 
226 ;  commander  of  the  National 
Guard,  227;  leads  the  National 
Guard  to  Versailles,  229;  reas- 
sures the  King,  256;  his  course 
at  Versailles,  256;  his  blind  op- 
timism, 260;  his  sleep,  264. 

La  Harpe,  quoted,  37 ;  his  report 
of  Cazotte's  prophecy,  151. 

Lameth,  M.  de,  ingratit'iffe  of,  5. 

La  Motte,  Count  de,.78. 

La  Motte,  Co(ijintes>.  de,  her  birth 
and  clj^^rgK:'  ;r,  76  et  seq. ;  has  an 
intf  !-'  , Jk  the  Cardinal  de 

Rohan,  devises    her    plot 

against  t^  .  Cardinal,  79;  ar- 
ranges the  mock  interview  be- 
tween the  Queen  and  the  Cardi- 
nal, 84;  her  plot  to  obtain  the 
diamond  necklace,  91;  hears  of 
the  arrest  of  the  Cardinal,  102; 
her  defence,  113;  her  punish- 
ment, 123 ;  her  death,  125. 

Lescure,  M.  de,  Secret  Correspond- 
ence of,  quoted,  5. 

Louis  XVI.,  delight  of,  at  the  birth 
of  the  Dauphin,  13;  his  feeble 
rule,  163;  his  weakness  and  va- 
cillation   with    the   Parliament, 


175;  decides  to'  convoke  the 
States-General,  177;  opens  the 
States-General,  191 ;  a  philan- 
thropist and  a  good  man,  but  not 
a  king,  204 ;  his  noble  optimism, 
205 ;  perceives  his  errors  too  late, 
209 ;  urges  Necker  to  leave,  209 ; 
appears  humbly  before  the  Depu- 
ties, 214;  decides  to  return  to 
Paris,  215 ;  orders  the  princes  of 
the  blood  to  leave  France,  216; 
goes  to  Paris,  219;  repels  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  239 ;  summoned 
to  Versailles  to  meet  the  mob, 
248;  shows  himself  to  the  mob, 
265  ;  consents  to  go  to  Paris, 
267. 

Louis  XVII.  as  Dauphin,  baptism 
of,  132. 

Louise,  Madame,  death  of,  145. 

Mackau,  Baroness  of,  the  friend  of 
Madame  Elisabeth,  141. 

Malouet,  his  observation  on  the 
King's  ministers,  202, 204 ;  quoted, 
209. 

Maria  Theresa,  her  disapproval  of 
private  theatricals,  54;  complains 
of  the  conduct  of  the  Cardinal  de 
Rohan,  62. 

Marie  Antoinette,  at  the  last  court 
ball  no  one  would  dance  with,  5 ; 
hissed  at  the  Opera,  5 ;  gives  birth 
to  the  Dauphin,  13  et  seq. ;  invites 
the  Baroness  d'Oberkirch  to  her 
court,  23;  her  timidity,  24;  en- 
tertains Gustavus  III.  at  the  Lit- 
tle Trianon,  47 ;  her  affability  at 
her  Sunday  balls,  51 ;  her  acting 
at  the  theatre  of  Little  Trianon, 
53;  refuses  to  purchase  the  dia- 
mond necklace,  88;  is  informed 
by  Madame  Campan  of  the  plot, 
94 ;  acquitted  of  any  part  in  the 
affair,  112 ;  wounded  by  the  ver- 
dict, 121;  portrait  of ,  by  Madame 
Vigee-Lebrun,  128 ;  death  of  her 
daughter  Sophia,  129;  death  of 
the  Dauphin,  131 ;  her  rural  life  at 


INDEX. 


299 


the  Trianon,  146;  begins  to  ap- 
prehend the  impending  troubles, 
160;  her  ascendancy  over  her 
husband,  172 ;  forbidden  to  show 
herself  in  Paris,  174;  her  error 
in  favoring  the  Third  Estate,  179; 
betrayed  on  every  side,  182 ;  her 
self-possession,  194;  evil  omens, 
196 ;  her  anguish  at  the  death  of 
the  Dauphin,  199;  her  partiality 
for  La  Fayette,  222 ;  and  for  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  230  et  seq. ;  re- 
alizes the  position  he  has  taken, 
236 ;  her  reception  at  the  banquet 
of  October  1,  243 ;  assailed  by  cal- 
umny, 246;  her  last  visit  to  th-: 
Trianon,  246;  rescued  by  Ma- 
dame Thibaut,  263;  is  taken  to 
Paris  by  the  mob,  268. 

Marie  Louise,  visits  Versailles  with 
Napoleon,  274. 

Maury,  Abbe,  brings  news  of  the 
Cardinal  de  Rohan's  arrest  to 
the  Countess  de  La  Motte,  102. 

Mercy-Argenteau,  Count  of,  wit- 
nesses incognito  the  acting  of 
Marie  Antoinette,  54. 

Michelet,  quotation  from,  88. 

Mirabeau,  a  royalist,  203;  his  fa- 
mous phrase,  206. 

Montreuil,  the  house  of  Madame 
Elisabeth,  139;  the  dairy  at,  147. 

Napoleon,  his  remark  about  the 
''Marriage  of  Figaro,"  40;  re- 
stores the  Versailles  palaces  and 
the  Trianon,  273. 

National  Assembly,  the  Third  Es- 
tate announces  itself  the,  205. 

Necker,  has  no  fears  about  the 
States-General,  9;  called  to  the 
Ministry,  177;  assembles  the  No- 
tables again,  179 ;  deceives  him- 
self, 183 ;  the  true  King  of  France, 
207 ;  gives  up  his  portfolio,  209 ; 
opposes  resistance  to  the  mob, 
250. 

Necklace,  the  diamond,  affair  of, 
no  longer  obscure,  86. 


Noailles,  Viscountess  of,  quoted,  7. 

Nobility,  the  French,  worthiness  of 
at  the  period  of  the  Revolution, 
7  et  seq. ;  light-hearted  and  dig- 
nified to  the  last,  11. 

Notables,  Assembly  of,  169. 

Oberkirch,  Baroness  d',  on  society 
in  France  at  the  period  of  the 
Revolution,  10;  presented  to  the 
Queen,  23;  descriles  Cardinal  de 
Rohan,  66 ;  quoted,  70,  138,  150. 

Oliva,  d',  the,  a  tool  of  Countess 
de  La  Motte,  82 ;  arrest  of,  103 ; 
public  interest  in  her,  110 ;  con- 
fesses, 1x3 ;  acquittal  of,  119 ;  re- 
ceives many  proposals  of  mar- 
riage, 123. 

Orleans,  Duke  of,  organizes  the 
Revolution,  175 ;  exiled  to  Villers- 
Cotterets,  176;  his  relations  to 
the  Queen,  230  et  seq. ;  his  char- 
acter, 233;  led  by  circumstances 
into  revolt,  237 ;  repulsed  by  the 
King,  239. 

Palais  Royal,  repute  of  the,  27,  46. 
Paris,  outbreak  of  the  Revolution 

in,  209. 
Parliam         the  action  of,  173. 
Paul,  the  Grand  Duke,  visit  of,  to 

Louis  XVL,  22 ;   his  hon  mot  at 

the  ball,  26;  at  C      Mr-  27. 
Pius  VII.   at  Ver  1805, 

272. 
Poitrine,   Madame,    ^arse   of   the 

Dauphin,  15. 
Polignac,  Duchess  of,  214;  bidden 

by  the  King  to  depart,  216 ;  leaves 

Versailles  in  disguise,  218. 

Raigecourt,  Marchioness  of,  dow- 
ered by  Madame  Elisabeth,  141. 

Revolution,  the,  a  light  affair  in 
the  eyes  of  the  nobility,  9;  the 
beginning  of,  160  et  seq. ;  insur- 
rection in  Paris,  210. 

Rohan,  Cardinal  de,  character  of, 
60 ;  French  Ambassador  at  Vien- 


300 


INDEX. 


na,  62;  incurs  the  dislike  of  Ma- 
rie Antoinette,  64,  67 ;  appointed 
Grand  Almoner  of  France,  etc.,  65 
et  seq. ;  his  infatuation  for  Cagli- 
ostro,  71 ;  fascinated  by  Madame 
de  La  Motte,  79 ;  in  her  toils,  81 ; 
has  a  mock  interview  with  the 
Queen,  84 ;  is  duped  by  the  Count- 
ess de  La  Motte  into  buying  the 
diamond  necklace,  92 ;  summoned 
before  the  King  and  examined, 
98;  arrested,  100 ;  decides  to  stand 
trial,  105;  protests  against  lay 
jurisdiction,  106;  shown  to  have 
been  a  dupe,  113 ;  makes  his  de- 
fence, 115;  is  disgraced  by  the 
King,  120;  his  end,  122. 
Royale,  Madame,  her  imprison- 
ment, 156. 

Sainte-Beuve,  quoted,  37. 

Segur,  the  Count  of,  quoted,  45. 

States-General,  convoked  at  Ver- 
sailles, 183;  the  ceremonies  of 
the  assembling,  185 ;  the  opening 
session,  188  et  seq. 

Taine,  quotation  from,  3,  7. 

Talleyrand,  quoted,  9. 

Tennis  Court,  the  oath  of  the,  205. 


Tippoo  Sahib,  embassy  of,  to 
France,  197. 

Trianon,  the  Little,  the  theatre  of, 
52;  Marie  Antoinette  on  the  stage 
of,  53  et  seq.;  the  Queen's  last 
visit  to,  246 ;  the  fate  of,  271. 

Versailles,  the  court  theatre  at,  2 ; 
the  pomp  of,  described  by  Cha- 
teaubriand, 3;  localities  of  the 
scenes  of  October  6,  258  et  seq. ; 
palace  of,  entered  by  the  mob, 
261 ;  decadence  of,  270 ;  Pius  VII. 
at,  in  1805,  272;  palaces  of,  re- 
stored by  Napoleon,  273;  visit  of, 
with  Marie  Louise  to,  274 ;  visits 
of  Louis  XVIII.,  Charles  X.,  and 
Louis  Philippe  to,  275  et  seq.; 
during  the  Commune,  289;  Na- 
poleon III.  and  Eugenie's  visit  to, 
278 ;  visit  of  Queen  Victoria  and 
Prince  Albert  to,  283;  Emperor 
William  crowned  in  the  palace 
of,  285;  Museum,  creation  of, 
276. 

Vigee-Lebrun,  Madame,  her  picture 
of  Marie  Antoinette,  128. 

Villette,  Retaux  de,  arrest  of,  103; 
confesses  his  part  in  the  affair  of 
the  diamond  necklace,  113. 


EKSITY 


Typography  by  J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.,  Boston. 
Presswork  by  Berwick  &  Smith,  Boston. 


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